Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: The Last Admiral
by HandofThrawn45
Summary: While on a mission to Rathalay, the young Jedi Anakin Solo and Tahiri Veila are caught up in a Yuuzhan Vong invasion. To escape, they must make an alliance with Octavian Grant, last of the Empire's elite Grant Admirals, who surrendered to the New Republic 20 years ago and craves one last battle.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**  
This novella is set between the events of _Edge of Victory II: Rebirth_ and _Star by Star_. It was inspired by an unpublished short story by Dan Wallace about Grand Admiral Grant and the Yuuzhan Vong.

 **DRAMATIS PERSONAE**  
8t88, defective administrative droid  
Etahn A'baht, general (Dornean male)  
Eryl Besa, Jedi apprentice (human female)  
Octavian Grant, former Grand Admiral (human male)  
Kaerobani, retired smuggler (human male)  
Pollum Morano, captain, Intrepid (human male)  
Yuhlan Sarn, Jedi Master (Tunroth female)  
Anakin Solo, Jedi apprentice (human male)  
Tahiri Veila, Jedi apprentice (human female)  
Floran Welby, first officer, Intrepid (human female)

-{}-

The light-stream of hyperspace dissolved into nothing. Stars spread in every direction, glistening faintly against a backdrop of endless black. There were no planets in this desolate part of space, no moons, no stations. There weren't even any ships.

That was the disturbing part. Sitting behind the shuttle pilot's seat, he leaned forward in his crash webbing and said, "Well, is there any sign of them?"

"Not yet, sir," the pilot checked his scanner. "He might be late."

It was plausible, but he didn't like it. He'd been skeptical about this rendezvous from the start, and if the request had come from anyone except his most trusted ally, he'd have never agreed to it in the first place.

"Switch to long-range scanners," he said impatiently.

"Already doing it, Grand Moff," the co-pilot said.

Their faces were hidden behind black Imperial pilots' masks and it was impossible to tell if they were as anxious as he was. Somehow that made him even _more_ anxious.

" _Well_ , gentlemen?" he pressed.

"I'm sorry, sir," the pilot said, "We don't have any-"

"Wait!" the co-pilot interjected. "Something's dropping out of hyperspace."

Before anyone could say another word there was a flash of light off their port bow. He strained his crash webbing as he tried to get a better look at the newcomers.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see a full squadron of New Republic E-wing fighters veering toward them.

"It's a trap!" the pilot snapped. "Shields up!"

"Plotting a jump vector now," the co-pilot said.

But, somehow, he knew they wouldn't make it.

The E-wings' laserfire splattered against their shields but the two lead fighters launched twin volleys of proton torpedoes. He knew the shields couldn't stop them, not when they were already overwhelmed with laserfire.

Four blazing warheads filled the viewport. He gripped his chair-arms tight and waited for them to blow the universe away.

Then he woke up.

Octavian Grant sat up slowly in his bed. It was a soft one but his whole body ached, like it always did on waking. He looked around the room. Morning light fell through open windows and breeze played with shimmer-silk curtains. It wasn't his room. It took him a moment to remember he'd stayed at Kaerobani's mansion the night before.

He hated that dream. He'd had it too many times to count over the years since he'd helped the New Republic intercept and destroy the shuttle of his former ally, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine. No, put it clearer: Since he betrayed Kaine to rebel assassins to save his own neck.

Grant had learned long before that the best way to deal with a guilty conscience was to keep busy, keep climbing, and don't look back. That had worked well enough until he'd surrendered to the rebels, exchanging all the secrets of the last grand admiral for amnesty and a guarded villa on Rathalay. After that he'd had no place to climb.

That had been twenty years ago. By the time he'd surrendered, most of his peers were already dead. Zaarin went first, getting himself killed in a stupid rebellion against Palpatine. Grant had found it amusing at the time, but then Declann had died with the Emperor on the Second Death Star, and after that they'd kept falling one after another. Poor Osvald Teshik, one of the few other grand admirals that Grant had been able to stand, had been captured and executed. Martio Batch, another decent man, had killed by his own crew. Grunger and Pitta had annihilated each other, Il-Raz had proved longstanding accusations of insanity by driving his ship into the heart of a nebula. Makati had been assassinated by rebel agents in the Corporate Sector. Tigellinus had been too competent for his own good: a bunch of Moffs had had him executed for threatening their power.

On and on it went. Only Thrawn had given the rebels the fight they deserved; he probably would have succeeded if all the fractured Imperial warlords had gathered under his banner instead of huddling in their own scattered fiefdoms.

Grant had figured out early that Palpatine's Empire was one where the most ruthless rose to the top. He'd seen it prove many men's undoing, even Amise Griff, the young officer he'd shepherded from captain to admiral, only to see him get killed by trying to edge past Darth Vader's fleet in the pursuit of the rebels evacuating Yavin 4. In the end even Griff had let his ego get the better of him.

It wasn't until after Endor that Grant realized that Palpatine had been the only one keeping them all from slitting each other's throats. He'd allied with Grand Moff Kaine for a time because he was the only one sensible enough to secure his territory and not pick fights, but in the end that position had become untenable. He'd surrendered, defected, sold out, turned traitor, whatever you wanted to call it.

But at least he was alive. Twenty years ago, he'd been satisfied with that.

Grant got out of bed slowly. He was past eighty, and the regenerative procedures the rebels let him have could only do so much. He used the refresher adjacent to the guest bedroom, then walked down the hall to his host's main living room.

Kaerobani was already there, watching a news holo, leaning back on his sofa with his feet on the table in front of him. The man may have made a fortune in smuggling and stolen goods but he still acted like a ruffian. The Octavian Grant of twenty years ago would have been disgusted to associate with such a low-life.

At this point, he was just glad to associate with _anyone_.

Kaerobani watched him as he entered. "Sleep well?"

"Sufficiently," Grant said.

On the table next to Kaerobani's feet were a few cups and the wine bottle they'd emptied the night before. Grant shuffled past the holo and over to the open chair. Slung over the back of it was a snow-white jacket, topped by braided gold epaulets. The rebels may have taken away his rank, but at least they'd let him keep the grand admiral's uniform. When Kaerobani had invited him over he'd suggested Grant wear it, implying the evening was going to be some fancy, proper, formal thing instead of the lazy, sloppy drinking they'd both known it would turn into. Grant had removed it at some point during the night, when the joke had stopped being funny.

He sat down in the chair without moving his uniform jacket. His bony body sunk into the cushions. He'd never been a big man and age had withered his already thin frame. He didn't mind that; it was better than ballooning out with age like Kaerobani.

"Well," Grant asked, "How goes the war?"

"Take a guess."

"Badly, I assume."

Since the Yuuzhan Vong had restarted their offensive, they seemed to be attacking everywhere at once with their typical chaotic ferocity. The Republic could have used the break in the action to regroup, to defend the front lines or barring that build a rampart around Coruscant and the Core, but instead they'd dawdled, bickered, blamed each other, and accomplished nothing.

If the Empire had been in charge, it would have been different. Grant had told Republic command again and again as he sent them tactical advice from his villa on Rathalay. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to his messages anymore. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him, period. In the beginning, he'd been watched over by vigilant Republic intelligence agents at once intent on making sure he stayed on Rathalay and protecting him from vengeful Imperial agents.

Now nobody cared about him at all. Well, nobody except one fat retired pirate with mansion full of toys and lots of time on his hands.

Grant and Kaerobani watched as the news presenter listed the most recent planets to be attacked by the Yuuzhan Vong. Grant stiffened in his chair when they named the Charros system as the site of an ongoing battle.

"That's a little close for comfort," he frowned.

"Oh, they talked about Charros already. Said the Republic's sent a task force to intercept."

"Which one?" Grant asked. Following the details of the Republic's fumbled response to the invasion was his only pastime.

"Can't remember. Some part of the Fifth Fleet."

"Hmmm. About time."

The Fifth had spent the early stages of the war bottled up in the Bothan sector protecting Borsk Fey'lya's home-world instead of fighting the enemy. The fall of nearby Hutt Space had finally gotten Fey'lya to spread out the Fifth to try and contain the Vong in those newly-conquered sectors.

Clearly, it hadn't worked.

"Can we get any more on Charros?" Grant asked.

Kaerobani scratched his gray beard. "You want to try and slice into Republic battle freqs again?"

"Is there anything more pressing to do?"

"I guess not. Give me a sec."

Kaerobani groaned a little as he pushed himself off the sofa. He wandered into one of the side rooms where he kept some of the spoils from his years of crime. He came back a moment later with a rectangular droid head tucked underarm. Grant couldn't remember the whole story of how Kaerobani had gotten it, but from what he'd heard about 8t88's previous activities, he was glad the droid's body was nowhere to be found.

Grant watched him crouch next to the transceiver array connected to the holo-projector. He plugged a few cables into the hole where the droid's neck should have been a flicked it one. Two small glowing eyes winked to life: one red, the other violet.

"Well, Master," 8t88 said in a crisp, sarcastic tone, "What's the bidding today?"

"I need you to hack into the battle freqs again, Eight-Eight," Kaerobani said.

"Oh, lovely," the droid said. "I'm so glad to be of service for this crucial task. Who are we spying on this time?"

"There's Fifth Fleet action at Charros," Grant said. "I want to know what's really going on."

"Charros?" 8t88 sounded a little surprised.

"If the Vong decide to swoop down on Rathalay, you want to be the first to know, right?" Kaerobani patted the droid's head affectionately.

"Oh, of course. After all, it would be a shame if they put me out of my misery," 8t88 groused.

Kaerobani grinned, like he found the decapitated droid's self-pity funny. Grant didn't. It hit a little too close to home.

And if the Vong _did_ come to put him out of his misery, well, it would be the most exciting thing to happen to Grand Admiral Grant in over twenty years.

-{}-

It was a little weird, being so close to someone you loved but unable to touch him or even see his face.

Tahiri Veila was strapped into the rear chair of their two-seater B-wing, which meant she was stuck looking at the back of Anakin Solo's helmet as the blue-and-white glow of hyperspace flashed outside their cylindrical cockpit. Even if she unbuckled her crash webbing and leaned all the way forward she'd just barely miss touching the shoulder of his flight suit.

He'd been pretty quiet on the long outbound trip to Rathalay, but Anakin had never been the talkative type. Once, Tahiri probably would have filled the silence with chatter about anything she could think of, but small talk had gotten a lot harder after her experience as a Yuuzhan Vong science experiment on Yavin 4. Looking back, she couldn't remember what she'd ever thought worth going on about.

Even though it was frustrating, being so close to Anakin but so far, she didn't want to be anywhere else except by his side, and despite everything that had happened, she drew great strength by knowing he felt the same way.

Still, the silence yawned a little too loudly to Tahiri's liking, so eventually she asked, "Have you ever met Eryl's master? I can't remember her."

"Yuhlan Sarn? She didn't hang around Yavin 4 much. She spent a lot of time exploring the Outer Rim. It's where she found Eryl in the first place."

"I know, but have you _met_ her?"

Anakin thought for a moment. "Once, yeah. I met her with Uncle Luke on Mon Gazza. She's really tough and big, maybe twice Eryl's size, but she's a Tunroth, so you'd expect that."

Tahiri hadn't even known Anakin had _been_ to Mon Gazza, but then, she'd lost count of all the adventures he'd had without her.

"Figures," she said.

"What figures?"

"You know _everybody_."

"That's not true. I just, you know, meet people through Uncle Luke."

"Master Skywalker to the rest of us."

"Okay, sure."

"I just can't keep track of all the places you went while I was sitting on my butt on Yavin 4 with all the kids."

"Tahiri, I'm not trying to show off." His voice strained a little. "I was just saying, I met Master Sarn once. That's all. I wasn't trying to brag."

She rolled her eyes. "I was teasing you, Anakin."

"Oh," he said after a second. "Okay."

She laughed lightly. She couldn't help it.

He asked, "What, what is it?"

"You may be the Jedi Order's big new hero, Anakin Solo, but you're still learning when it comes to girls.

"Umm… sorry?"

"That's okay," she smiled tightly. "It's what I like about you."

She couldn't see his face, but she bet he blushed.

They fell back into comfortable silence. It was good to prod Anakin sometimes, good for them both. Tahiri needed to reassure Anakin and herself that despite what the Vong had done to her, despite the three scars they'd left behind to mark her forehead, she still had some of the old Tahiri inside.

And Anakin, despite that fact that he really _was_ the big new hero for a whole generation of Jedi, never let it go to his head. Even after two years, he still wasn't over the fact that Chewbacca had died to save him. He still didn't feel like he was worth that sacrifice.

Everyone else clearly thought he was, which was why Master Skywalker had felt comfortable sending Anakin and Tahiri both to Rathalay without a Corran Horn or some other Master to accompany them. Eryl Besa and Yuhlan Sarn were already on the planet with represent-atives of the refugee relocation committee SELCORE, trying to convince the Rathalay government to accept some drop from the ocean of peoples displaced by the Yuuzhan Vong invasion.

In truth, Master Sarn had been doing most of the negotiations. Eryl Besa, an apprentice the same age as Anakin's two siblings, had been trying to ferret out supposed Yuuzhan Vong agents on the planet, so far to limited success. Anakin and Tahri were supposed to be helping her with that.

"Hey, Anakin," she asked, "Have you ever been to Rathalay?"

After a short pause, he admitted, "Yes."

"I knew it! What for?"

"A vacation. My mom and dad took us there once. I was pretty young so I don't remember much."

"I heard it has nice beaches."

"Beaches, mountains, forests. Good weather, too."

"I heard there's a lot of rich people with mansions there."

"Yep, which is probably why SELCORE is having such a hard time with them."

"They don't want a bunch of poor refugees mucking up their pretty property, huh?"

"That's about right."

Tahiri gave a long, long sigh. "You ever wonder if the New Republic is _worth_ saving? The way it's treated the Jedi, the way people have treated _each other_ , sometimes I feel like the Vong should just put us all out of our misery."

"Don't say that," Anakin said seriously.

"I know, I don't mean it, not really." Tahiri shook her head. "It's just… well, the way I look at things now, and the way I did just a couple years ago..."

"It's changed for everyone," Anakin said. His voice ached with knowing. "But if the Republic falls, then it means all those people who died fighting the Vong died for nothing."

"I know," she said. "I just wish I could convince myself we _deserve_ to survive."

Anakin didn't say anything to that. The cockpit settled into uncomfortable silence again as the flash and flare of hyperspace continued outside.

-{}-

Captain Pollum Morano had spent the past ten years on the bridge of the fleet carrier _Intrepid,_ far from the political wrangling over which worlds should and should not be defended from the Yuuzhan Vong. His window into that world had come from sporadic communiques with his former commanding officer, the crusty old Dornean General Etahn A'baht, who'd favored spreading the fleet to defend every outlying system possible against the Vong.

Supreme Commander Sovv and the other brass on Coruscant seemed to have thought only the Core Worlds were worth defending, which was why A'baht had resigned and gone back to defend his homeworld.

Now, almost a year later, they'd been tasked with defending Charros, a Mid Rim mudball notably only for its dwindling ore mines. Half of the Fighting Fifth was still clustered where occupied Hutt Space met the Bothan sector, but Task Force Cloverleaf had been sent to intercept a Vong thrust rimward. Maybe the brass was afraid of a campaign toward Mon Cal, or maybe they were just throwing darts at a map to chose assignments. Morano had essentially given up trying to figure out the logic.

His job was to fight, and after sitting out the invasion for two years, he now had plenty of that.

The ships of Cloverleaf were spread across Charros' upper orbit. The Vong task force had plunged deep into the planet's gravity well in order to dispel some of those nasty bio-weapons into the atmosphere. The planet's bio-sphere was probably a lost cause, but Cloverleaf could still pound the enemy while they were pinned with their backs to the planet.

Standing on the bridge of _Intrepid_ , Morano watched as a full squadron of K-wing bombers shot past the carrier's bow. A squad of E-wing fighters followed, right on their tails. Both groups dove toward the green-and-brown surface of the planet ahead of them.

The task force's heavy hitting star destroyers, Commo-dore Syub Snunb's _Resolve_ and Captain Alax's _Thunderhead_ , had pulled to the front of the line to exchange heavy fire with the Vong capital ships, while Captain Vatrim's cruiser _Majestic_ and the gunships _Farlight_ and _Garland_ sat behind them and intercepted enemy coralskippers. _Intrepid_ sat in the back along with the group's other fleet carrier, _Ballarat_.

 _Intrepid_ 's primary job was to haul fighters and troops around, not engage in messy slugfests, but Morano didn't like sitting at the back of the line. Back when A'baht had commanded the Fifth, he'd had his flag on _Intrepid_ and put them right in the thick of it. Morano was one of the Fifth's most veteran ship captains, but Commodore Snunb still outranked him, and he had to follow the Sullustan's orders.

Morano went over to the tactical station where his executive officer was overseeing deployment of their K- and E-wing squads.

"How does it look, Lieutenant Welby?" he asked.

"Aklay and Nexu Squads are making their attack run on the Vong picket," the young woman reported.

Morano clasped his hands behind his back and watched the markers on the holo. The green wedges denoting flights of K- and E-wings collided with red ones marking coralskipper flights.

When several of the green markers winked out, Welby grimaced. "They've got a good fighter screen, sir."

"They're not afraid afraid of dying. It's their biggest advantage over us. Well, that and their yammosk war coordinators."

"I know, sir." Welby swallowed. "When we were stationed at Bothawui, well… I was a little glad we weren't on the front lines."

Not for the first time, he was stuck by how young she was. Others on the bridge crew looked even younger. This war was eating through the officer corps too fast.

The tactical holo showed the remaining fighters and bombers slip past the coralskipper screen and begin their attack run. Their target was a small picket ship, and in theory the K-wings should have been able to handle it easily, but Morano held his breath. Nothing about the Vong was predictable.

Yet their payloads flew true. He glanced out the forward viewport to see the ship light up. A series of claps resounded on the bridge.

With the picket down, the two _Nebula_ -class star destroyers moved confidently forward. _Resolve_ and _Thunderhead_ began to pound the Vong command ships while _Intrepid_ and _Ballarat_ 's bombers added to the flurry. One of the three big Vong ships exploded and the destroyers vectored in on the remaining two.

The Yuuzhan Vong were cornered and knew it, which meant the battle had entered its most dangerous phase. As _Thunderhead_ pounded one Vong cruiser on the nose, the other turned its broadside to absorb attacks from _Resolve._

The ship facing _Thunderhead_ suddenly began to climb fast out of the gravity well. By turning its dovin basals toward the planet and pushing away it left its forward hull exposed to _Thunderhead_ 's turbolaser and missile volleys.

Morano realized what they were trying to. He hurried over the communications station and snapped, "Get me Captain Alax, _now_."

The lieutenant frowned. "One moment, sir… Comm is a little tricky right now…"

"Just _do_ it. That ship is going to-"

"Captain!" Welby called, "It's too late."

He looked out the viewport just in time to see the Vong shops ram _Thunderhead_. Their noses collided, crunched, then both ships exploded.

A ghostly silence fell over _Intrepid_ 's bridge. With only one Vong ship left, all of Cloverleaf's remaining ships fell on the offensive. _Sunbeam, Farlight,_ and _Garland_ raced forward to pound _Resolve_ 's opponent before it, too, could perform a suicide run.

"Engines, take us in," Morano commanded.

 _Intrepid_ lurched forward, _Ballarat_ right behind it. By the time the carriers got there, _Resolve_ and the other ships had already torn apart the last Vong capital ship, but there were plenty of coralskippers left to fight. The skips became living missiles, hurling themselves into the shields of the nearest capital ships. The nimble E- and A-wings were able to pick off many of those suicidal pilots, while _Intrepid_ and the other big ships were able to throw full power to their particle shields and absorb multiple impacts, but the gunship _Garland_ took two consecutive collisions to its bow and exploded. Its stern section became a ball of debris tumbling town toward the planet's surface.

Morano grimaced as he watched _Garland_ 's falling pyre. He'd first taken command of _Intrepid_ just in time to fight the Yevetha. These Yuuzhan Vong were even more destructively fanatic than the aliens from N'zoth, which he'd have never thought possible.

The loss of two of their own stung, but there was nothing to be done. The remaining Cloverleaf ships began to pull out from the planet. The Charrosan settlers who'd been able to evacuate had already left the system to join the massive refugee stream swirling hopelessly around the Mid-Rim, though ships without hyperdrives had been forced to land on _Ballarat_ and _Intrepid_.

The thought of so many dispossesed in his ship's belly made Morano anxious; he wanted to get them elsewhere as soon as possible.

"Captain," a comm officer called, "We're picking up a distress signal."

Morano held back a sigh and walked over. "From where?"

The officer held an audio transmitter to her ear. "Sir, it's coming from Rathalay. They say they're under attack."

Morano's heart fell into his gut. "How many ships?"

"They say over twenty, sir. They- Wait a moment-"

 _Twenty._ A full-scale invasion force, likely. Rathalay was primarily known as a recreational planet. It didn't have any major resources or strategic value, but neither had Charros.

It did, however, have a lot more people.

"Call from Commodore Snunb, sir," the officer said, and a second later a blue holo-image of the squat Sullustan appeared in front of Morano.

"All ships," Snunb said, "We've just received a priority distress call from Rathalay. They are under attack by a major Yuuzhan Vong invasion fleet."

"This was a diversion," Welby whispered. Morano hadn't even noticed her beside him.

"We've put in a request for assistance from Task Force Apex. In the meantime, we're to assist the evacuation of Rathalay anyway we can. All fighters are to be refueled, rearmed, and prepped for more sorties. Stand by to receive jump coordinates."

Snunb's holo winked out. Morano looked to Welby. There was terror in her eyes, and she didn't look young any more.

-{}-

As Grant sat in Kaerobani's living room, watching in shock and horror as the Yuuzhan Vong invasion fleet overwhelmed Rathalay's pitiful defenses, he had to admit it really _was_ the most exciting thing to happen to him in twenty years.

The local news broadcasters could barely contain their panic as they showed live footage of the Vong fleet surrounding their planet. All Rathalay had for defense were a few old picket ships, a couple skyhooks with guns slapped on, and a few squadrons of re-sale T-wing interceptors. The Vong tore through them within minutes. Attack ships plunged toward Rathalay's major cities, apparently intent on taking captives for one of those hideous blood sacrifices. Some ships had tried to flee the planet; almost all were shot down before leaving orbit.

There'd been a tiny spark of hope when a New Republic task force jumped into the system, but that hope died the moment one of the Vong ships fired up its dovin basals to create an interdiction field over half the system. The rebels had only five ships against nearly twenty Vong ones. They'd flown right into a deathtrap.

There was little Grant or Kaerobani could say, so 8t88 asked, "Do my Masters have plans? Or are you just going to sit here and wait for the Vong to come kill us?"

"There's no place _to_ go," Kaerobani waved a fat hand at the holo-projector. It was showing shots of coralskippers pummeling the high-rises along one of Rathalay's beaches.

"You have a shuttle, don't you?" 8t88 insisted. The droid was still plugged into to the holo-projector, though they'd stopped trying to hack into rebel battle frequencies. Those were even more depressing than the news reports.

"Even if we tried to fly out, we'd never get to the edge of the interdiction field," Grant said bitterly. "They have us all trapped."

"Count yourself lucky, Eighty-Eight," Kaerobani rumbled, "The Vong'll smash you on sight. They'll feed _us_ to their gods."

"Or you could try to _not_ be god-food," the droid said.

"I already told you, there's no place to go." Kaerobani's voice and eyes were empty.

"So you're both just going to wait here and die?" 8t88's two eye-light flared in imitation anger. "Really? Is _this_ how the last grand admiral is going to end?"

Grant felt a spark of indignation, but knew he deserved the rebuke. A part of him really had wanted to Vong to swarm Rathalay and excite his last miserably boring days.

"Well, is it?" the droid pressed. "You're not even going to fight?"

Grant hadn't fought anyone in over twenty years. Nobody up in orbit probably even knew he was down there. If they did, nobody cared. They had no reason to either. He was no one, nothing, an irrelevant coward.

8t88 was right. It was a miserable way for the last grand admiral to end.

Yet, despite the indignity of it all, he couldn't bring him-self to get out of his chair.

There just wasn't anything to _do_.

Then he heard a screaming in the sky. The Vong ships propelled themselves with miniature singularities and made no sound except the rending of air. This noise most definitely came from spaceship engines.

Kaerobani heard it too. He pushed himself out of his chair with more speed than Grant expected from a fat old pirate. He staggered out of the room and came back a moment later with an old DC-18 rifle hanging off his shoulder. Then he waddled off down another hall.

"Wait, where are you going?" 8t88 cried. "Explain!"

The rumble of an explosion shook the house. Grant pushed himself out of his chair and moved for the hallway. He stopped, looked down at 8t88's head, and for some reason he couldn't quite explain, detached the head from the transceiver array and stuck it under his arm. He was too old; the damn thing was heavy.

"Lovely," said the droid. "Just take me right _to_ the Vong. That will get it over with quicker."

Grant followed Kaeorbani down the halls to the landing pad. The pirate's modified _Delta_ -class shuttle was sitting on the pad. An energy shield shimmered faintly around it. Beyond were the jagged green mountains that surrounded Kaerobani's mansion on all sides. He'd built it as a hide-away, far from any city or coastline, and Grant had briefly dared hope that the remote location alone would keep the Vong from finding them.

Then he saw a black pillar of smoke rise from a crevasse. It must have been under a kilometer away.

"Who crashed?" he asked Kaerobani. The pirate was leaning against the landing pad's control console.

"Didn't see them," Kaerobani shook his head.

"Do coralskippers burn like that?" 8t88 asked from beneath Grant's arm.

"Probably not," Kaerobani said. "It must have been a shuttle, or a T-wing, or-"

Kaerobani froze. Grant followed his eyes and saw a pair of coralskippers skimming low over the mountaintops, vectoring for the hidden crash site.

"They'll be coming after us next," said Grant.

"Then we should get on that shuttle and run _now_ ," 8t88 insisted.

Kaerobani didn't say anything, he just watched as the coralskippers dipped low toward their target.

Grant squinted. He thought he saw something- a tiny pinwheel of gold light- spin straight up into the hull of one of the skippers. For a second he thought it was a trick of the eye; then the skipper tumbled out of the sky and smashed into a cliff-side.

The other skipper pulled upward, then wheeled around for another pass. Grant saw more flashes of light- probably small-arms fire- lance up at the skipper, but the skipper in turn began firing blasts of molten flame that sent geysers of black smoke and flaming debris into the air. Grant still couldn't make out what the skipper was pursuing. It must have been a speeder of some kind, because the Vong ship was moving fast and making sharp turns, like it was tracking the wind of a jagged valley.

He was so captured by the strange spectacle that he didn't even realize both craft were heading right toward them, not until 8t88 said, "I _really_ hope that shield works."

A second later, it burst into view: a little black Aratech speeder bike with two beings atop it. Both wore brown robes that flailed in the wind. The one driving looked to be a human boy with short red hair. The one in back was a big brown alien, a Tunroth, wielding a blaster pistol in one claw and a gold lightsaber in the other.

The red-haired driver must have spotted them, because he pointed his nose right for the landing pad and gunned it. Naturally, the Vong ship followed.

"Oh," Grant moaned, "I don't _believe_ this..."

Grant and 8t88 swore in unison as they saw Kaerobani grab the control panel's power lever. The energy shield around the pad flickered and died. The Aratech speeder hopped a gap in the hills and fell down onto the landing pad. The coralskipper dove after it and fired two more molten missiles from its forward cannons.

The shield came back up just in time to catch the missiles, but the roar of the explosion nearly burst Grant's ears. The coralskipper slammed into the shields a second later, overwhelming them. Fire and smoke tumbled onto the edge of the landing pad. Grant dropped 8t88's head to the hard duracrete and batted away the black smoke with both hands.

The actual debris seemed to have fallen into the hills. The fire burned out quickly, but the smoke still rolled on the wind, stinging his eyes and choking his breath. When it finally cleared enough for him to open his eyes and his mouth, he saw Kaerobani still standing at the control pad and two Jedi directly beyond him, standing amidst swirls of clearing ash.

"Thank you for your assistance," the big Tunroth said. "I am Jedi Master Yuhlan Sarn. This is my apprentice, Eryl Besa."

"Yeah, thanks for the help," the apprentice said while discarding the smoking brown Jedi robe to reveal a tight white tunic beneath. Besa's red hair might have been cut short like a boy's but her figure was decidedly female.

Kaerobani didn't seem to have anything to say. Neither did Grant. At his feet, 8t88 groused, "I'm guessing your ship got blown up."

"I'm sorry to say," Sarn nodded. "Is yours operational?"

"It won't do much good with the interdiction field," Grant said.

"Don't worry, old man, we've got friends on the way," Besa said with the stupid confidence only a teenager could have.

"'Old man?" Grant scoffed. "Girl, do you know who you're talking to?"

The red-haired girl just stared. The Tunroth blinked its little eyes. They really didn't' know, either of them.

It was too much. Grant bowed forward, hands on his knees, and started laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

The jagged green mountains of Rathalay's southern continent whipped by below their cockpit. Anakin Solo's hands tightened on the B-wing's control stick as he watched the sky with the other.

"Still no skippers," Tahiri said behind him. "They'll probably come any minute, though."

"I'll watch the clouds, you watch the scanner," Anakin told her.

"Fine. Where's Eryl and Master Sarn?"

"I don't know, I lost their locator beacon a minute ago. I'm taking us to their last location."

"Do you think they're dead?" Tahiri's voice was tight.

"I don't know," was all he could say.

He wanted to tell her he would have sensed their deaths in the Force, but he didn't know if that was true. He'd felt other Jedi's lives wink out before, like Master Ikrit, Kelbis Nu, or Daeshara'cor, but he'd only met Yuhlan Sarn once, and he knew Eryl Besa mostly by sight and reputation: tall, red-haired, energetic, boyish but also a little flirty.

It wasn't much to go on when you were trying to scout an entire continent.

Then he spotted the smoke, and knew he'd find out either way very soon.

He put the B-wing into a gentle dive and said, "Tahiri, I found the crash site. Taking us in low."

"I'm not reading life signs down there, but… Anakin, do you feel that?"

He did. It was there in the back of his mind, a small force, like someone was tugging the collar of his shirt from behind.

"Anakin, wait!" Tahiri said. "Make a three o'clock turn. I'm picking up a landing field and some kind of facility down there."

"Understood," Anakin said. He put the B-wing into a gentle turn while still watching the skies. For a second he thought he saw something dark flick between white clouds, but then it was gone.

He turned his attention to the hills below them. He banked to give himself a better view of the ground. The white disc of a landing pad, one rim darkened by fresh black scoring, was hard to miss.

The tug in the Force became a voice, he didn't know whose, but it said _So glad to see you!_

"You feel that?" Tahiri laughed in relief.

"I'm taking us down," Anakin said. "Looks like there's plenty room to land."

Anakin swung the B-wing's body into a horizontal position and folded in the S-foils. He kicked in the repulsors and brought the fighter down to a gentle rest, leaving its engines on standby without shutting the craft down entirely. He could make out Eryl and Master Sarn standing next to an old Imperial _Delta_ -class troop shuttle, while two more humans stood behind them. One was tall and fat, the other short and thin, white-haired and bent with age.

As he started to unlatch the cockpit, Tahiri asked, "Hey, Anakin, how are we gonna fit four more people on this thing?"

"Let's just hope that shuttle works."

"And hope no skips come at us. _And_ hope they get that drag field down."

Anakin had been trying very hard to forget that all Republic forces were currently trapped in the Rathalay system, so he did his best to ignore that comment. He hopped out of the B-wing's cockpit, paused to make sure Tahiri dismounted as well, and then the two of them walked across the pad to meet Eryl and Master Sarn.

"Your timing is impeccable, young Jedi!" the Tunroth said.

"Hey, when I heard Anakin Solo was coming after us, I knew we'd be okay," Eryl grinned. She ran up to Anakin, hugged him around the shoulders, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 _Oh boy_ , he thought.

"Good to see you too, Eryl," Tahiri said icily.

"Good to be seen." the red-haired girl stepped back from Anakin and gave Tahiri an easy grin. "Now, how about we _all_ get out of here?"

"Go where?" the skinny old man behind her insisted. "The Vong have a bloody interdiction field over half the system, and your fleet up there can't hold for long."

Something about the voice, the build, the face was familiar to Anakin, but for the life of him he couldn't place it. He was like one of those crusty, pompous old dignitaries his mother always complained about having to deal with.

"None of us can stay here," Master Sarn said. "They'll send more ships to investigate."

"We can take my shuttle," the fat man said. "Do you Jedi know any place to hide?"

"I've never even _been_ to this planet before," Tahiri said. "Anything, Master Sarn?"

The Tunroth considered. "The Yuuzhan Vong will be attacking the cities first. This world has many mountain and island chains we can hide in. However-"

"Excuse me," a new voice said, and Anakin noticed, for the first tie, what appeared to be a rectangular droid's head sitting on the duracrete next to the old man's boots.

"What happened to the rest of you?" Tahiri asked.

"An unfortunate encounter with _your_ kind." The droid producing a rasping sigh. "But that's unimportant. The only thing that matter right now are the coralskippers approaching from the north-north west."

Anakin spun around and scanned the sky and clouds. "I don't see anything."

"That's because you see with white water-sacks in your skull, not my sensors," the droid head said. "Best I can tell from their rate of approach, they'll be here in about one hundred and fifteen seconds."

For a moment everyone was too stunned to speak.

Then Tahiri said, "Good thing you kept the engines running."

-{}-

They couldn't run, so they had to fight. The only thing that saved the ships of Task Force Copperleaf from instant annihilation was the fact that the Yuuzhan Vong fleet was spread out to deploy troops across the planet's surface.

Even then, it felt like they were only delaying the inevitable.

Captain Morano could see the panic on the face of Lieutenant Welby, the fear of looming death on every member of his crew, but despite it all they still conducted themselves like professionals.

They all followed Commodore Snunb's orders to converge in orbit over Rathalay's most populous continent and try to scoop up as many ships fleeing the planet as possible. For the carriers _Intrepid_ and _Ballarat_ , the one upside to having lost bombers and snubfighters at Charros was that they now had room in their bays for some of the swarm of freighters, shuttles, and civilian liners fleeing the planet. _Sunbeam, Resolve_ , and the little gunship _Farlight_ did their best to surround the carriers and hold off the enemy.

They were clinging to the hope that Task Force Apex would get here soon, crawl through the interdiction field as fast as they could, and somehow burst the enemy drag ship. It was a damned long shot, but it was the only hope they had.

 _Intrepid_ had nearly filled herself to swelling with civvie ships when Welby called Morano over to the comm station. The dread on her face, and that of the comm officer, had gotten even deeper.

"Commodore Snunb just relayed a message from Apex," Welby said. "They got pulled out of hyperspace by another drag ship. They can't help us now."

It was a death sentence. There was no way around it. Still, he'd been captain of this ship for over a decade and command instincts took over fast. "Do we have further orders?"

"The Commodore says to fall back toward the fourth planet in the system."

Morano thought a moment. "The gas giant?"

"I guess he thinks we'll find cover there."

"All right," Morano said. "Begin withdrawal."

There were still hundreds of civilian ships trying to escape Rathalay, but if they stayed in orbit they'd be pounded to nothing. He knew it, Welby knew it. Neither of them liked it but they both knew abandoning them was the only way to save the people already onboard.

An idea came from nothing. It was a long-shot, a stupid hope, the kind a man only got when he was close to death and desperate for a way to keep alive.

"Carry out the order, Lieutenant," he told Welby. "Comm, I want you to patch me into someplace special. Can you do that?"

As Welby slipped away, the comm officer asked, "Who are we calling, sir?"

Morano swallowed. "A very old friend."

-{}-

They tumbled from the sky, landing hard on the dura-crete pad while their fat carrier shuttle wheeled away. A dozen Yuuzhan Vong warriors charged with amphistaffs held high, while a half-dozen behind them threw thud bugs over their allies' heads.

Tahiri's hand went to her lightsaber and she immediately sliced through one of the thus bugs. Master Sarn and Anakin charged the attacking warriors, and Eryl was right behind them.

Three against twelve were awful odds. Tahiri wasn't as good a fighter as any of them but she wasn't going to leave Anakin in the lurch. She was about to jump in and join them when the fat man grabbed her hard by the shoulder.

"We're getting out of here," he said, and pointed to the armored shuttlecraft sitting on the pad. "You should too, girl."

"I'm not leaving my friends." She ignited her lightsaber.

"Your loss, then," the man growled and hurried over to his ship. Tahiri spun around to look for the old man but he was gone. The rectangular droid head he'd been carrying was sitting on the pad, forgotten.

"Where is he?" Tahiri asked it. "Where'd the old guy go?"

"He ran back into the mansion, don't ask me why." The droid's eyes, white and purple, flared. "Pick me up! Get me to Kaerobani's ship! Don't leave me to the Vong!"

Tahiri glanced nervously back at Anakin- all three Jedi were deep in battle now- then at the shuttle. She saw the ship's starboard hatch swing open just as a thud bug arced out of nowhere and caught Kaerobani in the chest.

The big man let out a howl and tumbled onto the landing pad. Tahiri gave Anakin one more glance then rushed over. For a second she thought all that extra padding might have provided Kaerobani some protection.

Then she got close to him and saw the blood spilling out of his back where the thud bug had crawled in, saw his fat hands groping his chest as it heaved for breath. His eyes were full of panic and his mouth was open wide, desperate for air and life.

And then the eyes went empty. They still stared at her, and the blood kept flowing, but the man inside the body was gone, just like that.

"Don't leave me!" the droid head squawked behind her. "I have things to do! Bodies to find! _My_ body!"

Tahiri reached out with the Force, plucked the head into the air, and flung it through the open hatch and into the shuttle, where it clanked noisily against a bulkhead.

Then she ran to help Anakin.

Master Sarn had already taken down two Yuuzhan Vong warriors, but three more were falling on her. Eryl and Anakin were fighting back-against-back, trying to hold off five more Vong. Behind them, the remaining warriors were pelting the landed B-wing with thud bugs. The ship's engines were still hot, and that meant that when the Vong burst its power core, the whole thing would blow.

Tahiri ran straight for Anakin. She came up behind one Vong who was so intent on the other two apprentices that he didn't notice Tahiri until she speared her saber through his back, right beneath the breastplate of his Vonduun crab armor. Her blade went right through his lungs, stealing the breath needed to scream.

After that, the other Vong noticed her. Two turned away from Anakin and Eryl and came for her. She stepped back, lightsaber raised, knowing there was no way she'd be able to fight off two amphistaffs at once.

Then the B-wing exploded.

Fire and smoke washed over the landing pad and threw everyone to the ground. Tahiri groped out with the Force for Anakin, felt him respond. Something surged through the smoke in front of her, something she couldn't feel in the Force, and she whipped up her lightsaber just in time to block an attack by one of the Vong. She was still flat on her back and the warrior swung down again and again and again until hr had knocked her own blade inches from her face.

Then a gold lightsaber cleaved the warrior's head from his body.

Tahiri felt the Force pull her to her feet. She saw Yuhlan Sarn knock the warrior's decapitated body to the ground.

"Thank you so much, Master," Tahiri breathed. "Where's Anakin?"

"Right here!" A voice called. Anakin and Eryl appeared from the smoke, right behind Sarn. "Are you okay, Tahiri?"

She felt like she should have made a cocky joke then, but all she could say was, "Yeah. You?"

"Took down two by himself," Eryl said. "He's as good as they say."

"Come," Master Sarn said. "We must get to the shuttle!"

Before she could say anything else, a thud bug arced out from nowhere and caught her in the shoulder, spinning her around. A trio of Vong warriors came charging out of the smoke.

"Go," Sarn wheezed. "I'll handle them!"

"Master, no!" Eryl cried.

"Go!" the big Tunroth bellowed, and with a sweep of the Force pushed all three apprentices toward the shuttle.

Eryl was knocked off balance but still tried to join her master. Tahiri could feel the conflict in Anakin, the awful memory of Chewbacca, who'd already died for him.

Yuhlan Sarn's gold blade sizzled through the smoke and haze as three warriors fell on her. She was already wounded, but she managed to crack an elbow in one warrior's face, then pivot to drive her blade through the neck of another. The third warrior, though, lashed out with his amphistaff, and the living weapon sunk its teeth into the Tunroth's thigh.

Eryl lurched toward her master. Anakin joined her. Tahiri wanted to cry out, call them back, but it didn't matter. The first warrior recovered from the blow to the face and thrust the sharp stiff tail of its amphistaff right into Master Sarn's stomach.

Eryl shouted, but Anakin knew it was over. He grabbed Eryl around the waist and spun her back toward the shuttle. Tahiri grabbed them both by the shoulders and pushed them forward. The escape vessel sat on the landing pad in front of them, still intact, hatch wide open and begging for them to enter.

They tumbled through the threshold together and spilled onto the floor. Tahiri found herself with her face in Eryl's chest and quickly rolled away. Then she found herself with her cheek on cold metal and the droid's head staring at her with glowing miss-matched eyes.

"Can we _please_ go now?" it said.

The three young Jedi disentangled from each other. Eryl asked, "Anakin, can you fly this thing?"

"I can fly anything," Anakin said, almost by reflex, as he stumbled for the pilot's seat. Tahiri didn't think he'd been in this kind of ship before but he was probably right.

"Wait," Tahiri asked. "Where's the old guy? Where'd he go?"

"It doesn't matter," Anakin said as he dropped into the seat and began working the console. "We have to leave. _Now_."

Tahiri went over to the hatch and stuck her head out. She saw a small, skinny figure in white stumble out of the doorway to the attached compound.

"Hold on, he's coming!" Tahiri cried.

"Make him come faster!" Eryl said as the shuttle's engines rumbled to life.

Tahiri stretched out with the Force. The old man was moving as fast as he could, which wasn't very. She grabbed him with the Force, lifted his feet off the durcrete, enhanced his momentum and carried him all the way through the shuttle hatch and placed him down on his boots.

The confused look on the old guy's face should have been priceless, but Tahiri barely noticed.

"He's in!" she shouted. "Take us up!"

She reached past the old man to grab the controls and seat the hatch. The shuttle was already kicking off from the landing pad. The force of its repulsors blasted away some of the smoke and revealed blue sky and for a tiny half-second. Tahiri paused to savor it.

Then a Yuuzhan Vong warrior leaped onto the hull. His dark armored form filled the gap, blocking out the sky, even as the shuttle rose higher into the air.

"Anakin!" she shouted, but couldn't get in another word before the warrior swung his amphistaff down at her. She barely had time to bring up her lightsaber to block the attack.

"Hold on!" Anakin called from the cockpit, and the shuttle began to swing back and forth in the air. The warrior gripped the rim of the hatch tight with his free hand and with the other be brought back his staff for another blow.

Behind Tahiri, the droid squawked, "Wait, what are you-"

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the old man scoop up the droid head with both arms and hurl the thing at the Vong. She saw the warrior's eyes go wide right before the cursed mechanical contraption took him in the stomach like a cannonball.

Then both of them, droid and warrior, were gone.

Tahiri stuck her head half-way out the hatch to see them fall, but all she got was a face-full of blond hair, tangled and tussled by hard wind. She pulled herself wholly inside the shuttle, slammed the controls, and sealed them inside the ship.

"Is it gone?" Anakin was asking from the cockpit "Are we safe?"

"We're good," Tahiri panted. "Take us out of here."

She felt the shuttle pitch upward and race for the stars. As the ship rocked in the atmosphere she turned her attention fully to the old man.

She took it all in for the the first time: the sagging face, narrow eyes, white hair, and skinny body heaving with exhaustion. The white pants and the white jacket he must have gone inside to retrieve. It sat awkwardly disheveled on his bony frame but there was no mistaking the gold braided epaulets, the old Imperial-style rank badge on his chest. She suddenly felt like she was staring at a history holo-documentary.

"Well, Jedi," the last grand admiral said, "Aren't you going to thank me?"

-{}-

Task Force Copperleaf was falling back as best as it could, but there were plenty of Vong ships giving chase. A pair of frigate analogs were gnawing at _Resolve_ 's flanks while a larger cruiser was catching up on _Balarat_ and _Intrepid_. Both cruisers had emptied out their hangars to take on civilian ships and their starfighter compliments still swarmed through space, alternately intercepting Yuuzhan Vong coralskipper attacks and making their own on the pursuing cruisers.

Morano watched from _Intrepid_ 's bridge as a squadron K-wings made a run at the large cruiser. They were accompanied by a squadron of nimble A-wings that slashed through the initial Vong counteroffensive and cleared a path for the big bombers to drop their payloads.

As he eyed the tactical holo, Welby sided up next to him and reported, "Sir, there's still a lot of ships trying to flee the planet."

"We can't drop our shields, not now," Morano shook his head.

The cruiser was keeping good pace with _Intrepid_ and _Ballarat_ , pounding them from the rear.

"When that ship is gone though, sir, we might-"

"I know, Lieutenant. I know." They were never going to be able to save all the civvies or even most of them. Welby was going to have to accept that.

They watched the holo as the K-wing made their run. While the A-wings peppered the ship's dovin basals with stutterfire lasers and sporadic torpedoes, the K-wings dropped heavy missiles, many of which slipped through the Vong defenses and impacted on the hull.

"They're slowing, sir."

"Tell our snubfighters to keep at it.

"It looks like the Vong are sending out another fighter screen."

"Have the A-wings keep them busy and send the bombers on another pass."

Welby's lips were a tight line. She knew that if they kept the fighters out there long enough a lot of good pilots were going to die. She also knew it would clear up deck space for more civilian ships.

"Do it, Lieutenant," Morano growled. "And comm the hangar. Tell them to get ready to drop shields and let more civvies in."

"Yes, sir," Welby spun on her heel and went off to relay order.

Morano concentrated on the tactical holo. Captain Vatrim's _Sunbeam_ was leading the charge at the front of the line while _Resolve_ held back, shielding the carriers from even more attacks. It was a brave thing of Commodore Snunb to do, especially since the destroyer was clearly taking a pounding.

Suddenly markers flashed on the big Vong cruiser. Alarmed, Morano said, "Tactical, report. What's going on?"

"Uncertain sir," one of the officers said. "We're getting reports of explosions on the hull."

"Did our bombers drop their eggs?"

"Yes, but parts are breaking off, parts the K-wings didn't hit..."

"Captain!" an ensign called from the comm station, "Nexu Leader reports that the cruiser is venting grutchins into space!"

Morano swore. Grutchins were like space-bound locusts; they attacked in swarms and could chew through the hulls of almost any ship. "Tell Nexu Lead to get his birds out of there. Arrow Squad, too. Tell them _all_ to fall back and protect the-"

"Sir!" the comm officer winced, "We've just lost contact with Nexu Leader."

"Captain," another tactical ensign said, " _Ballarat_ reports grutchins have slipped through their shields."

Before Morano could give another order the entire deck shook. Alarms wailed.

From the helm section, someone said, "We've lost power in our starboard engine section!"

"We're reporting hull breaches in sections A-4 through B-6," Welby called from the hangar control station.

Grutchins, it had to be. "Drop emergency bulkheads around A-2 through B-8," Morano said. "Open all other airlocks in the contaminated sections."

Welby was shocked "Sir, we have crew in there!"

"And _grutchins_!" Morano snapped. "Do it! Now!"

Welby didn't have to give an order; everyone else complied. The deck shook again as _Intrepid_ opened more aft-section decks to the vacuum. Morano couldn't see it from the bridge, but he knew they were pumping a trail of fire, bodies, and grutchins out behind the dead starboard engine.

After a minute, the shuddering died down. Soberly, he said, "Helm, report."

"Starboard engine is non-responsive."

"What about shields?

"They're back online, sir," reported Welby. "All of them."

They weren't in any shape to pick up more civilian ships now. He looked back to the tactical holo to see how badly they'd fallen behind. _Ballarat, Sunbeam_ , and _Farlight_ had already pulled ahead, but his heart fell into his gut when he saw another frigate analog had joined the attack on _Resolve_.

"Comm, get me Commodore Snunb," he said as he hurried over to their station.

"We're trying, sir," the lieutenant shook her head. "The Vong are pounding him hard."

"It looks like they're making a run on its bridge," tactical reported.

 _Resolve_ , like other _Nebula_ -class destroyers, had a bridge that was sunk against the hull. Normally that made it less vulnerable than the exposed tower _Intrepid_ had, but if the Vong pounded it hard enough they could decapitate Snunb's command, and with it all of Copperleaf.

"Can we get anyone on _Resolve_?" Morano gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry sir," the comm lieutenant said, "We can't get anything."

"Sir," tactical said, "They've just taken out _Resolve_ 's bridge."

A mournful quiet fell over the deck. With Commodore Snunb gone, command of the task force fell on its next most senior officer, and that was Morano. He looked at the tactical holo and saw _Resolve_ sitting dead in space while the frigate analogs pulled away. They'd go after _Intrepid_ next.

The helm lieutenant broke the silence. "Captain, they can't get the starboard engine online."

Morano tried to shift the heavy weight on his shoulders. "Can you contact Chief Kilama?"

The officer swallowed. "They said he was in section A-3, sir."

The weight felt even heavier. With Chief Kilama gone, command of the engine section probably fell on some junior-grade officer with six months aboard. Morano had served on _Intrepid_ for over a decade. He probably knew those engines better than anyone on the damn ship.

He was also now brevet commodore of Task Force Copperleaf. He looked at the tactical holo and saw he wouldn't last much longer than Snunb if they didn't fix that engine.

"Lieutenant Welby," he said, "You have the bridge. I'm going down to the engine section. Comm, tell Captain Vatrim she's in charge of Copperleaf until I return."

Welby looked like she wanted to object. Half the bridge crew did, but no one said a word. They just watched Morano in grim silence as he stalked off his bridge.

-{}-

"Grutchins!" Eryl snarled as she looked at their scanners. "There's a whole cloud of 'em, dead ahead."

"Then we'll avoid them," Anakin said, knowing it was easier said than done.

He jerked the shuttle starboard and set them for a wide arcing approach on the straggling carrier. So far the Yuuzhan Vong hadn't bothered to fire on them. They'd been going after bigger targets, namely the carrier and the big _Nebula_ -class destroyer that had started drifting in space.

And somewhere over Rathalay, the Vong interdictor was trapping them in-system, and somewhere else, the yammosk war coordinator was telepathically controlling the grutchins, the coralskippers, the cruisers, everything. Their odds of actually getting out of this mess were probably too infinitesimal for even Threepio to calculate.

It was almost enough to make him forget that Octavian Grant- former grand admiral, war criminal, walking history lesson, haggard old man- was currently clinging to the back of his pilot's seat.

"Why are you setting course for that carrier?" Grant rasped. "It's down one engine. It'll be dead soon. Go for the other one!"

"I don't think we'll make it to the other one," Anakin said.

"Still better odds than landing on that ship," Grant insisted.

"Next time you can drive," Tahiri said from behind Eryl's seat. "This is Anakin's call."

"I didn't come this far to get killed on accident by some Jedi brat."

"Shut up and let him fly!" Eryl snapped.

Anakin was glad for the silence, even though he could feel the anguish and anger pouring off the girl beside him. He wheeled around the cloud of grutchins trailing the carrier- its ID read as _Intrepid_ \- and vectored for its starboard hangar opening.

"Incoming coralskippers," Eryl reported. "Five o'clock."

Anakin glanced at his scanners. They were definitely going to hit them beforr they reached _Intrepid_. "Tell me shields are up."

"They are."

"Weapons?"

"None that I can find."

"I _told_ Kaerobani to give this ship guns," Grant moaned.

Anakin wanted to tell him to shut up but Tahiri did it instead. The cockpit went quiet again except for the groan of the engines. _Intrepid_ 's starboard side began to swell in their viewport. He could make out starfighters flitting around its surface and the flare of its broadside turrets.

The shuttle rocked as enemy fire impacted on their shields. Keeping on course, he asked Eryl, "Shields?"

"Holding," Eryl said, then added, "Barely."

The ship rocked again. Anakin knew evasive maneuvers would be useless against more agile coralskippers. Panic spiked just as the engine-flares of two approaching A-wings flashed in his vision. The wedge-shaped star-fighters whipped past him, cannons flashing with stutterfire bursts.

"This is Arrow Nine," a voice said over their comm. "Be advised, _Intrepid_ 's shields are still up."

"Well ours are down," Eryl warned. "We need to land somewhere now, Anakin.

"I'm aware of that." He tried to shunt a little extra power to the engines and keep them on course for the carrier.

"You idiot, there's no point!" Grant snapped. "We need to head for the other ships! Now!"

Before anyone could rebuke him the shuttle began bucking. Anakin tried to wrestle with the controls but the ship kept jumping, even as _Intrepid_ 's shielding starboard hangar loomed in their vision.

"What is it?" he yelped, "What's got us?"

He got his answer when a grutchin stuck its ugly face- green eyes, black carapace, chomping mandibles- in front of the viewport.

Eryl punched the comm and said, " _Intrepid_ , drop starboard hangar shields _now_! We're coming in hot!"

The grutchin began stabbing at the transparisteel with two sharp claws, sending spider-web fractures through the metal.

"Put them down!" Eryl yelled into the comm. "Down! Down! Down!"

The carrier swelled before them. Relief shocked through Anakin's body as they passed through where the shields would have been and fell into the hangar mouth. He killed the engines and fired the repulsors but the shuttle still skidded across the deck, kicking up sparks and tearing a black trail through the floor. He barely avoided slamming into a docked Corellian freighter before knocking into a wall instead.

Everything shuddered and went still. Anakin took one deep breath, unhooked his crash webbing, and sprung for the door.

Tahiri was right behind him as he pushed the hatch open and sprung out onto the deck. The grutchin, dazed but undamaged, had fallen onto the floor and was righting itself on six claw-tipped legs. Anakin and Tahiri ignited their sabers and charged. The creature spat a wad of acid from its mandibles but Tahiri ducked beneath it. She rolled over one shoulder and came up on the grutchin's right side. One sweep of her lightsaber cut the claws off six legs. The creature, unbalanced, fell onto its side. Before it could spit out another wad of acid, Anakin jumped onto its left side and thrust his saber into one eye.

The grutchin made one, last, awful wailing sound, then was still.

Panting, Anakin stepped away from the creature. The shocked deck crew started to approach them, but before he could say anything, Tahiri tackled him from the side, wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and pulled herself up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I never doubted you for a second," she said, and one look in her bright green eyes told him she really hadn't.

He wished he had the same faith in himself. He buckled his lightsaber to his belt and looked back at the shuttle. Eryl had just pulled herself through the hatch. Grand Admiral Grant was already on the deck and steadying himself with one hand against the side of the shuttle. With his other, he pulled the white uniform straight.

"All right, I'm impressed." Grant said, " _Now_ what?"

-{}-

 _Intrepid_ 's bowels shook as the starboard engine reactor flared to life. Standing in the engineering control room, watching the sensor readouts, Captain Morano was momentarily afraid the engine might flare too fast and too hot, maybe even kicking back a reaction and overloading the ship's main power core, but after the initial surge it settled back into

"You did it, sir," the brevet engineering chief with relief. He really was younger than Welby. Morano couldn't even remember his name.

"Let's just hope she holds. Tell the bridge to catch up with the others as fast as possible."

"Already done, sir," another young man said.

Morano wiped the sweat off his brow and asked the chief, "How many did you lose when we decompressed?"

"Over two dozen, sir, but at least we flushed the grutchins out." The man sobered quickly. "Until those decks get atmo again, we won't be able to make any more adjustments. If the starboard engine takes any more-"

"I understand, Chief."

"Of course, Captain. It's just, ah..." The man shook his head, flustered. If they had any more engine trouble, Morano would have to come down here again.

That was when he remembered he was also now de facto commander of the task force.

"I have to get back to the bridge." He clasped the young man on the shoulder. "Engineering is yours now. You can handle this, Chief."

"Of course, sir. I will," he nodded.

A small compliment was enough to lift his spirits. Morano wished he could be that young again, that malleable, and eager to hope, but there was no point dwelling on it.

He gathered his security detail and hurried out of the engineering section. He was almost at the lift tube that would take him up to bridge level when alarms started wailing.

"What is it?" he snapped. "What now?"

The security team looked as confused as him. He was about to take out his comlink and call the bridge when the lift doors burst open in front of him.

A grutchin- claw-tipped legs, chomping mandibles, black-armored body, flitting little wings- came charging down the hall. One security officer shoved Morano aside and brought his rifle to bear. His shots hit the grutchin in the face, winking out one green eye, but it slashed out one leg and tore a bloody gash through the officer's guts.

"Sir, get back!" Someone said, and grabbed Morano by the shoulders.

The grutchin's other claw burst out like a thrusting spear-tip. The officer holding Morano cried out and fell, but the captain was able to push himself to his feet and scamper back. Another officer took him by the shoulder and pulled him away while his last one pulled a grenade off his belt and hurled it right into the monster's face.

The entire corridor shook, throwing Morano to the ground. Smoke and ash filled the narrow hallways and a high whining blared in his ears, even as an officer bent low over him and shouted something in his face.

Morano tried to rise. He felt a dull pain in his gut and looked down.

Blood was spilling from his abdomen, dyeing his trousers red, pooling on the floor, trailing all the way back to where he grutching must have stabbed him. He reached down in disbelief, touched the place where all that red was coming from. His finger-tip prodded it. Pain surged up and overwhelmed him.

"Oh," Morano gasped. Speaking seemed to rattle his insides. "Oh… Oh, Etahn, I..."

As fast it had come, the pain went away. Then the noise was gone, the light, the feeling of his legs and arms and hands and face. It all went away.


	3. Chapter 3

Octavian Grant felt no small satisfaction in being able to walk straight from the auxiliary hangar bay to _Intrepid_ 's bridge and demand an audience with its captain. He realized it wasn't entirely because of him (those silver lightsabers dangling from the Jedi brats' belts drew more looks than his crumpled white uniform) but it didn't matter.

When he stepped onto the bridge of a capital ship for the first time in twenty years, it was like coming home.

He was, however, slightly disappointed when their getting party consisted of one pale-haired young woman in a lieutenant's uniform.

"Welcome aboard," the woman said without pleasure. "I'm Lieutenant Welby, the ship's first officer."

"Thanks for the rescue. That got pretty hairy at the end," the Solo child said. Grant could see a little of his mother in the boy's the wide, expressive face.

"Where is the captain?" Grant interjected.

Welby's face fell further. "We just got news. He's dead."

"Dead?" the red-haired girl, Eryl Besa, said.

"Captain Morano was killed in a grutchin attack," said Welby.

"Who's in command now? You?" Grant asked, incred-ulous. The girl looked barely older than the Jedi brats.

"Command of _Intrepid_ falls to me," Welby said defensively. "With the captain dead, command of Task Force Cloverleaf falls to the next most senior officer, Captain Vatrim on _Sunbeam_."

Without asking permission, Grant stalked over to the tactical hologram. He hadn't seen one of those in decades but he took everything in with a single glance: the dead flagship, the Yuuzhan Vong ships breaking away from the planet, _Intrepid_ joining the three remaining ships in the task force as they neared the fourth planet in the system.

It was already looming ahead in the forward viewport: a big silver gas giant with a broad spread of rings around its midsection. The other ships seemed to be congregating around a small moon that orbited very close to the rings.

Welby and the Jedi fell in behind him. Grant looked at them and asked, "What kind of reinforcements are you expecting?"

"That's, ah, uncertain." Welby said.

"Meaning _what_?"

"Task Force Apex was coming to help but got pulled off-course by an enemy drag ship. Captain Morano called for more reinforcements, but with that interdiction field up-"

"They're useless, I know."

He glanced back at the holo again and marked the Yuuzhan Vong interdictor. The ship had pulled away from the planet and was in the middle of the pursuing fleet. Soon the ship's gravity well would separate from that of Rathalay and converge with that of the gas giant. Ships could then, theoretically, jump in and out of Rathalay, but the fleet would remain trapped at the gas giant. Apparently the Vong thought destroying the rebel task force was more important than keeping the newly-captured planet secure.

"Have you located the ship containing the yammosk?" Grant asked Welby.

"Ah, I don't think so. I believe _Resolve_ was trying to-"

"That _Resolve_?" Grant stabbed a finger at the abandoned destroyer's marker.

Welby swallowed. "Ah, yes sir."

Grant snorted and examined the holo again. He'd been studying Yuuzhan Vong fleet formations since the war began, usually with the help of New Republic tactical information sliced by 8t88. The Yuuzhan Vong fought recklessly, without fear of death, and on the rare occasion when they were trying to keep their own alive, it was easy to spot. The interdictor, for example, sat in the heart of the formation and was flanked by lines of coralskippers. Even if they took the entire task force out to kill it, other cruisers would stop them.

He noticed another ship, trailing slightly at the rear of the line. From his studies he'd gathered the approximate range of a yammosk's telepathic abilities, and it seemed like the Vong were trying to keep that ship within that range of both Rathalay and the pursuit fleet for as long as possible.

" _There_ ," he said, jabbing the spot of projected light. "There is your yammosk ship. Kill it and you'll have a great advantage."

The Jedi looked confused. Welby, to her credit, studied the holo closely and tried to puzzle out his logic. In the end, though, all she had to say was, "There's no way we can reach that ship."

"No _you_. Send fighters. Call _Resolve_ , and see if they have anything left. Send a _freighter_. That vessel is barely guarded. One ship can slip fast past their defenses and-"

"I'm sorry," Welby said, "But that is not your decision to make. Captain Vatrim is in charge now."

"Girl, do you know who I am?" He raised his voice to a yell. " _Do you_?"

The bridge fell silent. All eyes were on them and Welby knew it.

"I'm sorry," she said as steadily as she could, "I don't."

"I am Grant Admiral Octavian Grant, and I was fighting wars when you _parents_ were children," Grant said. He swung on the crew pit. "Command of this task force goes to the most senior officer. That officer is _me_."

"You're an Imperial," Anakin Solo said, "And a war criminal."

"Without my help, your mother never would have won again Thrawn, against Kaine, Daala-"

"Enough!" the little blond Jedi shouted. Veila spun on Solo and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Anakin, we have to do this, don't you see? It's our only chance!"

"We can't listen to his man," Anakin hissed. "He's-"

"I'm captain of this ship now," said Welby. She gave Grant an evaluating look, like she didn't believe he was the real thing. "I'm going to comm Captain Vatrim and _suggest_ your idea."

That wasn't good enough. _Intrepid_ had just lost her captain. Her crew was in shock, and that meant they were malleable. He had to assert himself now, before the real chain of command settled in.

Grant spotted the communications station and stalked over to it. The officers seated there stared up at him in mixed revulsion and awe. He'd been waiting for that look all day.

Feeling thirty years younger, Grant said, "Broadcast a signal to the planet, military encryption. Tell _anyone_ who can answer to attack that yammosk ship!"

"Enough!" Welby hurried after him. "You have no authority on this ship!"

Grant spun on her. "Do you really think you have more knowledge and experience than me? Do you?"

"That doesn't matter!" she insisted. "The chain of command-"

Grant laughed and looked out over the bridge. "Are you going to sacrifice your _lives_ just to keep the chain of command? You're not the rebels I knew."

For a second the bridge fell into hushed silence. Then, cautiously, a comm officer said, "We've got a response. Three K-wings from Nexu Squad got hit by grutchins and fell behind, but they have clear hulls and engines running now."

Before Welby could interject, Grant said, "Do they still have their payloads?"

Meekly, the officer nodded. "They do."

Grant had never faced K-wings in battle before, but he knew they carried missiles heavy enough to crack open the yammosk ship, if they could slip through its defenses. Normally they required interceptors to support them.

"Anything else?" Grant asked the crew.

Another comm officer said, "I've got a response from a few T-wings from the local defense force."

"Just what we needed." Grant snapped his fingers. "Tell them to meet up with the K-wings and make a run on that yammosk ship."

"Hold that order!" Welby grabbed Grant by the shoulder. He was old and she was angry; she nearly knocked him off-balance. Her gray eyes flared as she said, "There's no way a half-dozen fighters can kill that yammosk. The Vong will spot them and shoot them down."

"Not if we distract them."

"Distract them with what?"

Grant spread out his arms and said, "Me."

The stupefied look on Welby's face made him laugh. He spun back to the comm lieutenant and told her, "Get me a signal, the broadest kind. I want the Vong to hear me. Can you do that?"

It was the moment that could break him. If the lieutenant refused a direct order it would give Welby the chance to assert her authority and reclaim _Intrepid._

But that comm lieutenant, bless her, didn't hesitate. She didn't care about the chain of command, she wanted to _live_.

Maybe there was hope for these rebels after all.

The woman punched something into her console, then said, "You have audio, Go ahead."

Words sprung to him of their own volition. He said, "All ships, this is the fleet carrier _Intrepid_ , now under the command of Octavian Grant, the last of the Empire's Grand Admirals. I was not planning to come out of retirement today, but the Yuuzhan Vong disturbed my rest. If they want to claim the head of the last grand admiral, they are welcome to bloody try. Myself, I welcome the challenge. This is the best fight I've had in-"

He paused, thought, remembered another gas giant, another set of sparkling rings, another fight that had truly made him feel _alive_.

"This is the best I've had in forty years."

He reached out and turned off the connection. He stepped away from the console and tugged his white uniform into order again. He checked his epaulets, made sure they fell perfectly down his shoulders. Somehow, forty years ago, one brave little waif had fought her last battle in an impeccable dress uniform. Maybe he'd remembered that, subconsciously, when he'd darted into Kaerobani's compound to grab his jacket, even as the Vong attacked.

He turned around and looked out at the bridge: the crew in the pits, the officers on the upper decks, Welby looking suddenly helpless, the Solo brat looking angry, the two Jedi girls looking almost relieved.

Somehow, this one moment made the past twenty years worth it.

Then one of the tactical officers said, "They're coming after us, full speed."

"Excellent," Grant snapped his fingers. "Comm, get me a line with Captain, what was it, Vatrim. Tell her we need to talk..."

-{}-

As the old admiral bent over the communications console again, Anakin felt Tahiri's hand squeeze his arm.

"Anakin, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I'm not okay!" he said, a little too loudly. He lowered his voice and added, "That man, he just stole Welby's command. He just stole this whole _fleet_."

"He's a Grand Admiral," Tahiri stressed. "If anyone can get us out of here, he can."

"Anakin, she's right," Eryl leaned close. "We're at the end of our ropes here."

Anakin looked between them, shocked at how easily they were accepting this. "Don't you guys know who Grant is, what he's done?"

"I know he was one the Empire's best," Tahiri said. "And I know he surrendered to the Republic in exchange for amnesty, but beyond that..."

"My mother told me everything he's done, all his crimes," Anakin said. His voice went hard at the memory. "Every time she had to go to him, ask him advice, she hated it. She hated how pompous he was, how he never apologized for anything. Mon Mothma was the one who agreed to give him amnesty. Mom... I think she would have rather executed him."

Eryl and Tahiri looked back at the Grand Admiral. Tahiri's expression softened a little. "He defected in the end though, didn't he?"

"To save his own neck. He's never believed in anything except himself."

"Maybe that's what we need right now," Eryl said. "Maybe we just need someone to kill Vong. _Anyone_."

Her face was hard but her eyes were soft. Anakin put a hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry about Master Sarn. I wish we could have done something."

Eryl shrugged it off. "It's too late now, Anakin. We have to think about surviving ourselves, and right now, that old bastard's probably out best chance."

It was bitter logic, and Anakin had a hard time denying it. The silver gas giant was looming in their forward viewport, along with the three other Republic ships nestled in the narrow space between its smallest moon and its rings. He glanced at the tactical holo to see the enemy fleet closing fast with the yammosk ship dangling at the end of the line.

"It really is exposed," Tahiri muttered. "He's really drawing them in..."

"Sure," Anakin breathed, "Kill the yammosk ship, then have to fight a dozen more. Great odds."

"If we kill the yammosk they'll be confused, vulnerable," Eryl said "And we can use the moon and the rings as shields."

It was all too damn logical. Anakin looked out the viewport again and saw engine-flares as all three ships surged to join _Intrepid_.

"He convinced them," Tahiri muttered as Grant turned away from the comm station.

The little old man, almost dazzling with his snowy hair, pale skin, and white uniform, stalked over to the tactical holo. Poor Welby stood next to the tactical lieutenant with her arms crossed.

"You got Captain Vatrim to agree with you," she said, quietly angry.

"She didn't really have a choice." Grant cracked his knuckles and studied the holo. "What's the arrival time for those T-wings and K-wings?"

"Three minutes," the tactical lieutenant said.

"Perfect," Grant nodded. " _Captain_ Welby, deploy your fighters screens as you chose."

Welby blinked, uncertain how to take it. Anakin knew he was just throwing a still a bone to chew on, but to reject the offer would isolate Welby even further.

The woman went over to the crew pit and began giving deployment orders. The three Jedi watched the forward viewport as _Ballarat, Sunbeam_ , and the little gunship _Farlight_ came to meet them. _Intrepid_ turned her face away from the silver planet and its dazzling rings. Stars panned away until they could see the Yuuzhan Vong attack fleet heading straight for them."

"Two minutes until they hit firing range," the tactical lieutenant said.

"Full shields." Grant snapped thin fingers. "All cannons, prepare to fire on my mark, but _not_ before."

There was a long, awful pause as everyone waited for the fight to resume. Anakin felt Tahiri's hand clutch his arm, then slide down to slip her fingers between his.

The Vong fired first. Lines of molten projectiles shot through space. They splattered on _Intrepid_ 's forward shields, rocking the bridge.

Grant steadied himself on the tactical console and said, "Tell the K-wings to fire when ready."

Anakin could see them on the tactical holo: three bombers and two interceptors diving in from behind the yammosk ship and opening fire. The T-wings' shots seemed to disappear into the ship's dovin basals but the K-wing's missile flew true. The marker designating the yammosk ship started flashing, and in the forward distance, Anakin saw a flash of light at the rear of the Yuuzhan Vong line.

A cheer went up over the bridge. Grand Admiral Grant thrust a finger at the forward viewport and called for all ships to open fire.

 _Intrepid_ 's cannons joined those of _Ballarat, Farlight,_ and _Sunbeam._ Missiles and tubrolaser blasts streaked out to meet a Yuuzhan Vong fleet suddenly shocked by the loss of its war coordinator.

The dovin basals of the forward ships succeeded in swallowing the initial volley but struggled with the second. Tahiri squeezed Anakin's hand as explosions flared across their hulls.

Republic starfighters leaped forward. The coralskippers were especially vulnerable without the yammosk and the Yuuzhan Vong's forward fighter screen was torn to pieces by a mix of X-wing, E-wings, A-wings, even old T-wing interceptors from Rathalay's local defense forces.

The Yuuzhan Vong were stubborn, and they kept firing even as their forward line crumbled. The second line of ships charged forward through the broken, drifting remains of the first. The Vong seemed to have recovered somewhat from the loss of their yammosk; their volleys were coordinated this time, and one strong blast nearly took out _Farlight_ 's shields, forcing the gunship to drift back toward the moon.

"I don't know how long we can keep this up," Anakin breathed as energy flashed and scattered on _Intrepid_ 's shields, all but obscuring the attacking fleet.

Eryl nudged his side and pointed to the tactical holo. "If we can chew up their second line, they won't be able to protect their interdictor. They'll have to fall back and reform."

"And _then_ what?"

The girl shrugged and said, "Hope the backup gets here."

Backup was useless as long as the interdiction field was up. They were fighting a losing battle, but Anakin was shocked they'd made it as far as they had.

While their capital ships had found coordination without their yammosk, the coralskippers were still in disarray, giving the Republic fighters an opening to launch more attacks on the capital ships. K-wings streaked forth and began to drop their remaining payloads on the second line. A few corvette and frigate analogs exploded under the K-wings' heavy ordinance, giving the remaining three capital ships an opening on the big cruiser analog at the center of the Vong line. When the ship lit up under a sustained three-directional barrage, a cheer went up over the bridge and Tahiri squeezed Anakin's hand again. Eryl grabbed his other arm and made a noise that almost sounded like a giddy squeal.

As Eryl had predicted, the Vong fleet stopped its advance. Grant ordered _Intrepid_ to fall back to the moon, and this time not even Welby objected. _Sunbeam_ and _Ballarat_ fell back as well while the Yuuzhan Vong fleet attempted to group in a way that would still keep the interdictor cruiser protected.

Their surprise victory had returned energy and confidence to _Intrepid_ 's beleaguered crew. And at the center of the bridge, Grand Admiral Grant stood with his hands clasped behind his back, positively beaming.

Anakin had to hand it to the old man. He'd earned it.

However, as the grand admiral looked across the bridge, his eyes settled on Anakin and the smile melted off his face. He stared at the young Jedi, just _stared_ , and Anakin suddenly felt like a trapped animal.

Then Grant stepped off the center aisle and gestured to Anakin. Just loud enough to be heard, he said, "Come with me. Please."

Anakin looked at Tahiri on one side, Eryl on the other. Both had stiffened in alarm.

Grant said, "I want to have a private talk."

Anakin certainly didn't, but he nodded anyway and disentangled himself from Tahiri and Eryl. He didn't look back as he followed Grant off the bridge.

-{}-

Everything had happened in such a rush that no one had had time to take stock of their losses or touch their grief. Finally, it was hitting the crew. Tahiri could see it on Lieutenant Welby's face, feel it emanating from everyone in the Force.

She felt it strongest of all from the girl next to her.

Cautiously, Tahiri reached out and put a hand on Eryl's arm. The red-haired girl was staring down at the deck, arms crossed under her breasts.

Tahiri didn't know Eryl very well, and hadn't known Master Sarn at all, but she felt she had to say _something_.

"Maybe we'll get out of this after all," she said. "That old guy… I don't know _exactly_ what he did, and I'm sure it was bad, but I'm glad he's with us now."

Eryl didn't respond. Tahiri squeezed her arm a little. "I lost my master too, back on Yavin 4. And it always hurts. You just have to keep moving."

"It's not that," Eryl breathed. "I mean, it _is_ that. I just… Master Sarn's lightsaber was very important to her. I wish I could have saved it. It would have meant a lot."

Tahiri tried to think of a response to that. Eryl shuddered lightly, shook her head, and added, "It doesn't matter. It's not coming back. _She's_ not coming back. Maybe _we're_ not coming back..."

"We'll get out of this," Tahiri said firmly.

Eryl raised a red eyebrow. "Do you really believe that?"

Tahiri nodded. She really did. After all she and Anakin had been through- the Yuuzhan Vong conquest of Yavin 4, their adventures on Eriadu, nearly freezing to death in a locker over Yag'Dhul- the latest life-threatening situation seemed almost run-of-the-mill. She realized that was stupid, over-confident thinking, and that even Anakin himself didn't feel that way, haunted as he was by the death of Chewbacca, but there it was: the illusion of invincibility.

Love probably had something to do with it. That, and adolescent hormones.

"I hope you're right," Eryl said. "I'm not sure what I believe any more."

"I just hope the grand admiral has a plan for us to hold out until the reinforcements show up. Whoever they are."

"We still need to break that interdiction field."

"I know, I know." Tahiri let her hand fall to her side.

She and Eryl stood, awkwardly close but a little apart, watching the crew run post-battle system checks. Lieutenant Welby spotted them and stepped away from the tactical console.

"Are you two holding up?" the woman asked.

"Best as we can," Tahiri gave a smile. Poor Welby's command had been pretty much stolen out from under her, but then, Tahiri doubted she'd wanted that command anyway.

"Did most of your pilots make it back to the ship?" Eryl asked.

"More than I expected." Welby realized she sounded downcast and added, "I'm glad, of course. I didn't think that plan would work."

Tahiri definitely didn't want to ask her opinions about the grand admiral right now. "Yeah. Let's just hope we hold out longer."

Eryl surprised her by asking, "Your captain, did you recover his body?"

Welby blinked, then nodded. "Captain Morano was killed by a grutchin that boarded the ship. We're pretty certain we've got them all now, but not positive."

"Well, we'll help any way we can," Tahiri assured her.

"I know, it's just… unnerving. And Captain Morano..." Welby shook her head. "This was his ship. He's been captain for over ten years. The only one I knew, or anybody else."

"I lost my Master down on Rathalay," Eryl said in sympathy. "And Tahiri, she lost hers a while ago too."

Welby's face was tight, grim. "If we lose any more..."

Unwelcome thoughts came to Tahiri. She found herself what it would be like to lose Master Skywalker, Master Horn, Anakin's twin siblings.

Even Anakin himself.

She recoiled from the thought. Anakin was her love, her strength, her life. She'd rather be dead than live without him.

Eryl must have sensed something through the Force, because she put a hand on Tahiri's shoulder and said, "You were right. We just have to keep moving."

"And keep fighting," Welby added. Her gaze settled past the two Jedi, past the forward viewport, on the Vong ships hanging beyond the planet's silver rings.

Tahiri fought a shiver. They'd be coming soon, there was no doubt of that. She was glad, at least, to have Anakin by her side.

Live or die, they'd do it together. Knowing that kept the fear away.

-{}-

Even though he'd never been on this ship before, the grand admiral seemed to know the way to the captain's command salon by instinct. It felt strange to Anakin, intruding on the dead man's chambers, but Grant didn't seem bothered at all. Instead, he seemed laser-focused on the fight at hand.

"All right, boy, let's get this over with. I have a question for you." Grant's movements were fast and fidgety, like he had too much energy and couldn't get rid of it all.

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay. Ask."

"You have experience fighting the Yuuzhan Vong, correct? As in, one-on-one combat?"

"I've fought them pretty much any way you can think of."

"That's what I thought. I've studied this war, boy, these people. It's the only thing I had to do on Rathalay. I welcomed the distraction at first. I thought it was like an amusing holo-drama."

If Grant was trying to win points with Anakin, it wasn't working. The Yuuzhan Vong had announced their entry into his life by killing Chewbacca.

"The point is," Grant continued, "I've never _really_ fought them until now. To fight an enemy, you have to know how he thinks. I know they're brave warriors. I know they don't fear death. But they're also not fools. They wouldn't have gotten this far if they were."

"What are you asking?" Anakin couldn't bring himself to call the old criminal 'grand admiral' or 'sir' or anything else.

"Young man, we need to destroy that interdictor. It's the only way any of us is going to leave this system."

"I know. Are you asking me for ideas? I thought I was just a little brat."

"You want an apology, fine." Grant waved a bony hand. "You're not a brat. You're a young hero. Is that what you want? It's what everyone calls you. I thought you Jedi were supposed to be above egos."

"We are. And I don't _like_ being called a hero. I just try to fight the Yuuzhan Vong any way I can."

"That's all I need."

"So you want me to tell you how to kill the interdictor?"

"I have an idea," Grant said, "But I need your advice."

"What's your idea?"

"I've heard these Vong have a strong sense of honor. I've heard that sometimes they agree to halt the larger battle and instead fight an honor duel. That's what you Jedi did at Ithor. Corran Horn, wasn't it?"

"Master Horn won the duel and killed Shedao Shai. The Vong destroyed Ithor anyway and everyone blamed Corran." Anakin said. "And _another_ time, Corran and I challenged a Yuuzhan Vong intendant to a duel. He flat-out refused."

"I see." Grant looked crestfallen.

Almost apologetically, Anakin added, "A warrior ended up standing in for the intendant. I killed him in a duel."

"Excellent," Grant breathed. "So if the challenge is made, _someone_ must accept."

"You plan on challenging some Vong to a duel?" Anakin looked the old man over.

"Oh, this isn't about some saber-play. I imagine if I challenge them to some starship battle it will suffice."

"So you're going to fight a _duel_ ," Anakin repeated.

"Of course not," Grant snapped. "I just want to get a ship close enough to destroy the interdictor."

"How is that even going to work, though?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to think. Presumably the duel will take place in mid-orbit, between the two fleets. Maybe bombers or interceptors can piggy-back onto my ship. I'm not sure. I'll have to consult with Lieutenant Welby."

Anakin was sure she'd love that. "The Vong aren't stupid. They're good at spotting tricks."

"They don't have as much experience with tricks as I do. I promise," Grant said.

Anakin thought a moment. Then he said, "You fight dirty."

"I'm a Grand Admiral. Of _course_ I fight dirty. Anyone stupid enough to fight honest in the Empire ended up with ten knives in his back."

"Okay," Anakin said. "You probably realize this kind of fight is incredibly risky too, right? As in, the moment the Vong realize something's up, your ship is going to get blasted."

"I'm prepared for that."

Anakin blinked and stared at that weathered face, so hard with purpose. He was surprised by what he found.

"You're not afraid of dying," he said.

"Why should I be?" Grant shrugged. "All the other grand admirals are dead. Kaine too. Vader, the Emperor. I've far outlived my time, boy. I thought I was going to waste away on Rathalay forever. This here, this is a gift."

Anakin didn't know what to say. He'd seen so much death since the war began. Chewbacca had just been the start. He'd spent two years running as fast as he could to keep ahead of it all: the grief, the fear, the paralyzing knowledge that he could be the next to fall.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to face death with the same aplomb as Grant. He didn't know if he _wanted_ to. He had so much to live for: his parents, his siblings, Tahiri, all his other friends in the Jedi Order. Even the memory of Chewbacca.

Grant was an old man who lived for nothing but the fight.

He couldn't think of anything to say, though he felt, vaguely, some thanks might have been appropriate. Grant didn't seem interested in that, however. The old man said, "I don't want to make my challenge until we know Morano's reinforcements have reached the system. So we have some time to prepare."

"Unless the Vong make another charge."

"That's why I said _some_ time. However, they think they have all the time they need, so I suspect they'll bring in reinforcements of their own from Rathalay. They'll be slow at sublight speed, which gives us an opening. If it looks like the Vong are about to charge, I'll issue a challenge anyway."

"Okay," Anakin said. "Do you need me for anything else?"

"A bit," Grant admitted. "Young man, I want you to help craft a challenge they cannot refuse. You must have inherited some of your mother's silver tongue, correct?"

"Maybe a little," Anakin allowed.

"You've clearly inherited Jedi powers too. Yes, I think a few of your magic tricks could be quite helpful..."


	4. Chapter 4

They knew it was coming, but General Etahn A'baht gave his fleet the order to keep flying until the artificial gravity well wrenched them out of hyperspace and dropped them into the Rathalay System.

The moment they reverted to realspace, _Charnak_ 's bridge became a flurry of activity as the cruiser's crew gathered information on their telemetry and fleet activity in the system. The Dorneans worked with speed and efficiency rarely seen on the bridge of New Republic ships, and when A'baht had returned to the Dornean home fleet six months ago after resigning his Republic commission, it had felt like a welcome homecoming.

He hadn't planned on fighting the Yuuzhan Vong unless they came to Dornean space, but when Pollum Morano had called, he'd had no choice but to answer.

"Well, Etahn, we've made it," said Kiles L'toth.

 _Charnak_ 's first officer, like A'baht himself, was an old Dornean, with thick creases in his rough violet skin and weary bags under his eyes. He'd also served with Morano during the Black Fleet Crisis and had insisted on coming along with A'baht for what he'd called 'one last joyride in service of the Republic.'

"Tactical, report," A'baht ordered.

After a second, the tactical holo sprung up between A'baht and L'toth.

The section lieutenant said, "The Yuuzhan Vong fleet seems to be split into two groups. One is around Rathalay. The other is around the fourth planet in the system, a gas giant."

L'toth pointed at a handful of blue markers on the holo. "Those look like our friendlies, or what's left of them."

"Can we get ship IDs?" A'baht asked.

"Working, sir," the lieutenant said.

A second later, labels appeared over the markers. He was relieved to see the _Intrepid_ still there, as well as Captain Vatrim's _Sunbeam_. _Ballarat_ and _Farlight_ were flying as well. A'baht tried to recall the latest ship assignments for Task Force Cloverleaf. It should have been Commodore Snunb's command, but _Resolve_ was nowhere to be seen."

"Communications," he said, "Hail _Intrepid_. Tell Morano an old friend needs a sitrep."

"Understood, sir."

L'toth was studying the holo. "Etahn, do you see that? They've only got one line of ships between the interdictor and Pollum's fleet."

"They also have Cloverleaf outnumbered and out-gunned," A'baht scowled. "It looks like they're hiding close to the planet's rings, maybe using them as a shield, or a choke point. I can't see why else the Vong haven't attacked."

"General," the comm lieutenant reported, "We have _Intrepid_ on the line."

"Excellent." A'baht tapped his earpiece strapped to his head. "Put him on my personal link."

He heard a click, and then a female voice said, "This is Lieutenant Welby of _Intrepid_. Please identify yourselves."

"This is General Etahn A'baht of the Dornean home fleet. We have six ships ready to help, if we can get closer."

"I'm glad to hear that, General."

"Lieutenant Welby, if I may ask, where is Captain Morano?"

There was a tiny pause, but when she spoke he already knew the worst.

"Captain Morano is dead, sir. As his executive officer, _Intrepid_ is now under my command."

A'baht felt deflated. This war was taking too many good men. "I see. Who is in command of Task Force Cloverleaf? You seem to have lost Commodore Snunb."

"That's correct sir."

"Then is Captain Vatrim in charge?"

"The situation is, ah, a little complicated, sir."

A'baht frowned. "What does _that_ mean, Lieutenant?"

"I, ah, one moment, sir."

Suddenly the comm line clicked off. A'baht looked at the holo but didn't see any sign of a new fight.

"Pollum's dead," he told L'toth. "There seems to be come confusion as to the chain of command."

"Meaning what?"

"That's what I just asked. The line simply died on me. I think-"

"Sirs," the comm lieutenant said, "We're picking up a broadcast on all channels, unencrypted."

More confused than ever, A'baht said, "Put it on, overhead speakers."

The loudspeakers clicked on, and a ragged but precise voice filled the bridge, saying, "To all ships in the system, this is Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, broadcasting from the gunship _Farlight_."

Half of _Charnak_ 's crew looked confused, but for A'baht, L'toth, and the other old soldiers, realization dawned. Grant had defected to the New Republic a few years after Palpatine's death and settled into a permanent retirement- on Rathalay. Apparently it hadn't been permanent enough.

"I want to congratulate the commander of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet thus far," Grant continued. "I also want to say that I'm slightly disappointed a better fight wasn't offered. I'd hoped the Yuuzhan Vong would send their best to fight the Empire's own, but alas, that does not seem to be the case."

"Is he mad?" L'toth muttered.

That sounded likely to A'baht. The grand admiral must have been into his eighties now, quite advanced by human standards. How and why Cloverleaf had taken on a senile old war criminal A'baht couldn't begin to guess.

"I've gotten generous in my twilight years," Grant went on. "I've decided to be sporting. Instead of pummeling the rest of your sorry fleet and getting out of here, I am giving you one last chance to redeem yourselves in the eyes of your gods.

"I am going to take _Farlight_ beyond the planet's rings and into mid-orbit. I challenge the commander of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet to a duel in space. If he is not a coward, let him prove it by coming out to face my vessel with a comparable one of his own within the next ten minutes. If he is, in fact, a miserable embarrassment to Yun-Yammka and does _not_ show his face within ten minutes, I will assume his entire fleet is just as cowardly as he is and launch a frontal attack that will, I assure you, leave not one coralskipper flying.

"I await an honorable fight, my friend, whoever you are. I hope you don't keep me waiting long."

There was a tiny click as the comlink shut off. _Charnak_ 's crew stared at one another in speechless confusion.

"Well," A'baht said, "He threw down _that_ gauntlet, didn't he?"

"How did that man even get _up_ there?" L'toth was dumbfounded. "Who let him take control of a gunship?"

"At this point I don't think it matters." A'baht said. On the tactical holo, _Farlight_ 's small marked slipped past the others and advanced until it hung midway between the opposing fleets.

"General," the comm officer said, "We just got a burst transmission from _Sunbeam_. Captain Vatrim says to get ready for a micro-jump to the gas giant."

"All right," A'baht said, then raised his voice. "Helm, you heard the man. Comm, get on line with the other ships and tell them to plot a micro-jump."

As the crew set to work, L'toth sidled next to A'baht and said in a low voice, "I don't know what that man thinks he can do. He _has_ to be mad."

The general grunted but didn't reply. If A'baht had been stuck in glorified house arrest for twenty years, he'd have gone a little crazy too. The real question was whether the old man had lost his edge.

-{}-

Octavian Grant wasn't afraid to die.

He was surprised by that. Oh, he'd acted brave for the Jedi brat, but he had no intention of going on a suicide mission. After proving his worth to the New Republic today, they might even let him take command of a fleet again and deal further damage to the Vong. The thrill of battle had him feeling more alive, more in love with life, than anything in twenty years, if not longer.

Victory was the goal today, and so was survival. Grant planned to accomplish both, but the first was more important than the second.

And if he _did_ die, well, at least it would be a good death, a fighting death. Better than Kaine, ambushed in his shuttle. Better than Thrawn, stabbed in his chair. Better than Zaarin or Batch or Teshik or any of the other grand admirals.

It would be the kind of honorable fighting death he'd given that little waif from Bavinyar above another broad-ringed gas giant, so long ago.

Grant stood in his white uniform on the bridge of the _Warrior_ -class gunship _Farlight_. He'd never stepped foot on one of these ships before, and its first officer had given him a fast run-down of its capabilities. The ship was designed for fast offensive strikes and carried a heavy payload of both energy and particle weapons. The one downside was that her shields wouldn't last through a heavy slug-fest.

That was just fine by Grant. The ship had been stripped down to a skeleton crew of twenty, most of whom were on the narrow bridge. They'd pulled away from the other Republic ships and the moon they'd taken shelter behind. The silver disc of the planet had fallen behind them and they sat in space, awaiting the coming of the Yuuzhan Vong commander.

Grant was sure his opposite number would come. After a challenge like that, his own crew would kill him if he didn't.

"Incoming vessel," _Farlight_ 's little Gosfambling first officer reported. "It looks like a gunship analog."

Grant squinted out the forward viewport. These Vong ships didn't have engine-flares to mark their approach, but one chunk of yorik coral seemed to be growing steadily closer.

"Hail them," Grant ordered.

He wasn't sure exactly how the Yuuzhan Vong organic technology picked up Republic transmissions, but it didn't matter. After a moment a deep, angry voice filled the bridge.

"Grand Admiral Grant," it said, "I am Commander Warral of Domain Chark. I have come to face you in honorable combat."

"I appreciate your coming," Grant said into his personal comlink, which they'd patched into _Farlight_ 's external transmitter. "I apologize for not being able to battle in person, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

After a pause, Warral Chark said, "It will be an honor to defeat you, Grand Admiral."

"Likewise, Commander. Are there any, ah, rules I should know before we begin?"

After another pause, the Yuuzhan Vong said, "You may have no assistance from other vessels, including star-fighters. You must fight only with what your vessel has brought with it."

"All I have with me is what you see," Grant lied. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes. May you have an exquisite death."

The comlink clicked off. _Farlight_ 's helmsman reported, "The Vong ships is accelerating."

"Swing our broadside to face them. Let them fire the first shot," Grant looked at the first officer. "Send the signal. Start the clock."

"Yes sir," it chirped.

 _Farlight_ swing her face away from the enemy fleet and raised shields. Grant gripped the back of the helmsman's chair tight and braced himself for a rough ride.

Much as it pained Grant to make himself the sideshow, he'd assigned the critical task of the killing the interdictor to the Jedi. He could only hope their magic tricks would work. For his part, he was intent on putting on a sideshow that would grab everyone's attention.

-{}-

Tahiri would have felt a lot better about this plan if she'd actually flown an A-wing before. Eryl was okay; she used to race snubfighters. Anakin could fly anything. As for Tahiri, she'd been trained on X-wings, and A-wing controls were clearly designed after the older craft's, but there were still plenty of differences. For one, X-wings were well-balanced, multi-role space superiority star-fighters. A-wings were basically guns and a cockpit strapped to two oversized thrust engines.

At the moment, though that was exactly what they needed.

The three wedge-shaped starfighters hung close to the little moon. The gas giant's silver swirls were at their back and the moon's rugged marble hid them from view of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. The plan Anakin and Grand Admiral Grant had put together basically involved using the moon's gravity to slingshot toward the enemy fleet. Right before they crested the moon's ecliptic, they'd fire hard bursts from their super-powerful Novaldex thrust engines, then kill said engines and use inertia and the Force to shoot like bullets right toward the Vong interdictor. The Vong usually tracked enemy ships by their thrust-flares, and they'd be distracted watching Grant's duel, so in theory, the three Jedi starfighters would be able to get close to the interdictor before anyone noticed.

The attack required extremely precise timing, the kind that was best coordinated by three Jedi whose minds could work as one. Tahiri tried to release all of her anxiety and doubt as she merged her thoughts with those of Anakin and Eryl.

Like Eryl, she found herself pulled into Anakin's concentrated awareness. He was waiting, waiting, waiting for the signal from Grant, which would be sent first from _Farlight_ to _Intrepid_ , then bounced back to him. All other thoughts were pushed far away.

Tahiri waited too, waited, waited in the silence of her cockpit.

When the signal came, Anakin didn't say a word. He just kicked his thrust engines on. Eryl and Tahiri did too, in perfect unison, and all three A-wings shot forward.

The little moon had a small tight orbit, and they had to fly very low but Tahiri followed right behind Anakin and didn't worry at all about hitting the surface. When they were about to crest the moon's north pole Anakin fired his hard thrusters, and so did Eryl and Tahiri. They shot out of the moon's orbit just as they crested its pole, and at that same moment all three killed their engines.

With a little help from the Force, all three ships shot toward the Yuuzhan Vong fleet.

Tahiri glanced out the bubble cockpit to see the duel between Grant and the Yuuzhan Vong commander. She saw the Vong gunship, about the same length as _Farlight_ , charge Grant's ship head-on. The grand admiral had his broadside turned to absorb impact while delivering volleys of its own. Just when she thought the two ships would collide, the Vong ship veered up and broke into a broad turn.

 _Farlight_ , meanwhile, swung its nose to fact the Vong fleet, kicked its engines to full, and charged.

-{}-

 _Farlight_ accelerated fast toward the Vong fleet, nearly throwing Grant off his feet. His fingers dug into the back of the helmsman's chair as he said, "Forward shields on maximum. Forward guns, target the closest picket analog."

"Admiral," the comm officer reported, "Incoming from the Vong gunship."

"I bet he's hopping mad," another officer said nervously.

"Put him on," Grant said, and brought his comlink to his mouth. "Commander Chark, do you have a question?"

"What are you _doing_?" The Vong almost sounded like he was vomiting. "We are engaged in honorable combat!"

"We _were_ ," Grant corrected. "I'm sorry, but I decided your interdictor was a far more important target than _you_."

"This is outrageous! We will crush you! We-"

Grant killed the connection and asked his first officer,

"How long until those Jedi reach their target?"

"Twenty seconds, admiral."

Twenty seconds. They could hold out that long. Grant believed it. Even as the enemy picket unleashed a torrent of molten missiles that overwhelmed their shields with a scarlet fireburst, he believed it.

-{}-

As Grand Admiral Grant's ship raced to meet the front line of the enemy fleet, more ships jumped forward to join the defense. The interdictor stayed where it was- as Grant had predicted- but the ships that had been set to guard it moved forward to fend of his frontal assault.

That left a big opening for three little Jedi starfighters.

None of them spoke, even as the interdictor filled the center of their vision, but Tahiri felt Eryl ask _when_ and Anakin respond _not yet._

Eryl was edgy, but not enough to damage the connection. Tahiri emptied herself of anxiety did what she always did: trust Anakin.

The interdictor got closer and closer, until she could see the dovin basals, the missile launchers, even the faintly-gleaming gem-like viewports scattered at random across the organic hull.

Then, finally, Anakin sent _now._

They fired their torpedoes first, two each. Then they kicked their engines back to life. Just as the thrust flared on, six torps impacted on the hull, tearing the yorik coral apart and venting outer decks into space.

The dovin basals sprung to life and Anakin begin feeding stutter-fire laser blasts into one of them. Tahiri and Eryl targeted the same location and let fly four more torps. The dovin basal struggled to eat up all of Anakin's laser-blasts and couldn't grab the torps in time. Four bombs tore through the same chunk of the hull, one after another. They pulled away in unison, riding over the back of the ship's hull, and as they wheeled around for another pass, Tahiri saw that the second set of torps had actually torn right through one side of the hull and blown a hole out the other.

Almost giddy satisfaction filled her, and then her ship shuddered with the release of artificial g-force.

The interdiction field was down.

"Okay," Anakin shouted aloud, "Gun it for home! Go! Go! Go!"

He pointed his ship toward the gas giant and fired his engines full. Tahiri and Eryl leaped after him, just as the first Dornean ships dropped out of hyperspace with guns blazing.

-{}-

Octavian Grant held tight to the back of the helmsman's seat as he punched _Farlight_ forward. The moment the Dornean ships dropped into the fray, he'd pivoted the ship back to face the gas giant without waiting for orders. Grant hardly minded; he wanted to survive this almost as much as them.

The silver planet swelled to fill their vision. Even through bursting fireballs and flashing plasma bolts he could see the remaining three Republic ships moving forward with their own guns blazing. The Yuuzhan Vong fleet still outnumbers the combined Republic and Dornean vessels, but that no longer mattered. The goal wasn't victory, but escape.

For a moment a flight of E-wings swept past _Farlight_ 's bridge. Grant's mind flashed back to the dream that had woken him at the start of this very long day. Then the E-wings veered away and began firing at another, hostile, target. They were all on the same side now.

Grant found himself laughing. It was a stupid, wheezing laugh that wracked his narrow body but none of the crew seemed to notice.

The Dorneans were keeping the Vong busy behind them. Friendly ships were all that was in front of them. Those three Jedi brats had apparently escaped the fray and Grant would be next. He laughed again as he wondered how the rebels would thank him for this feat. Probably not with a whole fleet, but maybe a ship, maybe even a task force-

Then one of his officers squawked, "Incoming vessel, five o'clock, _fast_."

"Hard to port, now!" Grant ordered, but the helmsman was already on it.

The gunship veered as ordered, and there was a splash of weapons-fire against its forward shields as the Vong ship nearly smashed into its flank. _Farlight_ cut engines to allow the ship to pass, but instead of shooting ahead of them it slowed too, turned, and pivoted to face them head-on.

Grant recognized it immediately as Commander Warral Chark's ship.

The comm officer said, "Admiral, that ship is hailing us."

Grant already knew that Chark would say. He told the helmsman, "Pivot, give him another broadside, then gun it for the planet!"

"Trying, sir," the helmsman grimaced as he struggled to bring the ship about.

Warral Chark's ship was already charging. As _Farlight_ pivoted her crew threw extra power into the port thrusters. They came up just in time to intercept the first volley, but the force of impact rocked the entire ship.

"Gun the engines!" Grant barked. "Now! Now!"

"We've got a malfunction!" someone else said. "Thruster four is-"

The ship rocked again. Grant was thrown forward hard. His chest hit the back of the helmsman's seat and pain shot through his body. As alarm klaxons blared, he wondered if he'd broken a rib.

"He's still coming!" the first officer reported. "He's going to ram!"

"Engines! Go!" Grant wheezed.

Nobody seemed to hear him, but the helmsman punched them forward anyway. The ship lurched and another missile volley rattled their shields.

"It's too late!" the Gosfambling screeched, "He's-"

The entire bridge shuddered once more. Grant was thrown to one side. His hip cracked against the edge of a console and he grabbed its top with both hands just to keep from collapsing on the deck. Crewmen shouted damage reports but Grant couldn't make out any of them above the wailing of the alarms and the growing, groaning noise that sounded like the entire ship was being torn in two.

Through the clamor, he made out someone say: "Hull breaches on the engineering section! The engines are going to burst!"

So that was it, then. The silver planet loomed in front of them like a lost hope. Close, but not close enough.

It was still good, Grant thought through the pain and the noise. Better than Kaine, Thrawn, Zaarin, all the rest. He'd outlasted them all in life and now he'd beaten them in death too.

It was a ridiculous thought, but it made everything feel worth it. As the ship broke in two and flame rushed up to meet him, Grant threw his head back and laughed.

-{}-

In the end, eight capital ships made it out of the Rathalay System, including the three surviving vessels from Task Force Cloverleaf and five of the six ships from General Etahn A'bath's fleet. The sixth, the _Braha'tok_ -class gunship _Zahkaran_ , took too many head-on barrages from a Yuuzhan Vong cruiser analog and went down with all hands. A'baht regretted the loss of good Dorneans, killed fighting the Republic's fight, but not as much as he regretted losing Captain Morano.

The balm on it was that at least his old flagship survived. After all ships had been safely evacuated to New Republic territory, he joined Kiles L'toth and shuttled over to Intrepid _._ It had been years since he'd actually set foot on the ship, and despite the battered hull and the hangar bays crammed with refugee ships, it felt like a homecoming.

He found Morano with his first officer, a young human woman named Welby. Morano's body had been taken to a cool-storage room and draped in a black cloth. There were over two dozen bodies also laid out on the deck, mostly from other crewmen who had been killed during the grutchin attack.

As Welby led him through the field of the dead, he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, as though she'd been crying. A'baht was better than most Dorneans at guessing human ages, and at first glance she'd seemed little more than a child.

At first they just stood there, A'baht and L'toth on one side of the black-draped body, Welby on the other, staring down at the anonymous dark cloth, saying nothing.

Eventually L'toth asked, "Have you been given a new assignment, Captain?"

"I'm not a captain," Welby shook her head. "I'm still just a lieutenant."

"You became a brevet captain after Pollum died," A'baht said. "After safely getting your crew and all those refugees home, I imagine you've earned yourself a permanent rank."

"I didn't do anything," Welby shook her head. "It was all... _him_."

She didn't need to elaborate. The entire incident still seemed surreal to A'baht. It must have been even more so for Welby herself: stricken by grief and overwhelmed by sudden responsibly, only to have a mad old grand admiral in a stark white uniform charge onto the bridge and take over the fight.

"A long time ago," L'toth said, "Etahn and I got a chance to take on an Imperial grand admiral. Teshik, at Endor. It was a hard fight but we captured him alive. I was proud of it. I certainly never thought I might fight _with_ a grand admiral."

"Life never happens the way we plan," A'baht said.

Welby snorted and shook her head, like he'd made a bad joke.

He looked back at Morano's body. When A'baht had made _Intrepid_ his flagship, both the carrier and her captain were fresh and new and unbloodied. It had been only ten years before, but it felt much longer. Two bloody wars could do that.

"What will you do now, General?" Welby asked, still looking at Morano's body.

"We'll go back to Dornean space. We held back the Empire for decades, we can hold back the Yuuzhan Vong too."

"You have a good fleet. Good soldiers."

"I've always thought so."

"I'm sorry for the ship you lost. I know this wasn't their war to fight."

"They were soldiers," A'baht said. "They knew what they were getting into."

Welby sighed heavily and blinked a little wetness from her eyes. "I know you've been at this a very long time, General. Way longer than I've been alive. I suppose you must be used to losing people like this."

He was. He wasn't going to lie about that. A lot of the time that made it easier, but when it was someone like Morano, someone he'd worked with and trusted for years, it hurt like the first time.

"It's supposed to hurt," he told her. "And you can't get numb to it, or savor it. You just have to bear it and dread it the next time it comes. Do anything else and you'll end up as twisted as the Yuuzhan Vong."

Welby nodded. She didn't know the full of it yet, but she was young, and she would learn. They both knew there was a lot of war left to fight, a lot of losses to take, a lot of hurt to bear.

-{}-

"I know he didn't die for my sake," Anakin Solo said as he stared down at his steaming cup of caf, "But I still feel like I owe him something."

"Whatever you think you owe, you can't pay it back," his sister told him. "The old man's gone."

"I know. I just think..." Anakin sighed. He didn't know what he thought. He picked his head up at looked at Jacen, because his older brother, for better or worse, was always thinking _something_.

Jacen didn't offer anything right away, though. He, Anakin, and Jaina were sitting around a table in one of the ready-rooms on Eclipse, the Jedi Order's new secret base in the Deep Core. Anakin, Tahiri, and Eryl had just gotten back less than an hour ago, and while the girls had been desperate for a shower and change of clothes, Anakin had wanted to have a hot drink first, and to talk things over with his siblings.

After he'd told the full story he felt empty, uncertain. After his recent experiences at Yavin 4 and Yag'Dhul, he'd at least felt he'd learned or gained something valuable. He'd been hoping Jacen or Jaina might share a little wisdom about what had happened at Rathalay, but it didn't seem like they had any to give.

In the end, though, Jacen didn't disappoint. He took a breath and said, "I don't think you owe him anything, but it's good that you feel that way."

"Well, _that_ makes things clear," Anakin rolled his eyes.

"I mean it. From everything you've told me, Grand Admiral Grant didn't care about you or anyone else on those ships. He just wanted one last battle. He wanted to go out fighting."

"He got his wish," said Jaina.

"Exactly. So nobody owes him anything. He got exactly what he wanted."

"Then why do you say I _should_ owe him something?" asked Anakin,

"Because no matter _why_ he did it, he saved thousands of lives. If he'd been a New Republic officer, we'd be feting him as a hero right now."

"So is that what your current tack?" Jaina asked. "Results matter more than intention?"

Jacen thought a moment. Anakin's older brother always seemed to be wrestling with some abstract dilemma instead of facing the problem dead ahead of him, and he'd stopped trying to keep track of whatever Jacen was thinking at any given time.

"I don't think that, and I'm not saying what Grant did was a redemptive thing," Jacen said eventually. "I remem-ber Mom talking about him, about all the stuff he'd done. Rathalay doesn't make up for that. But still… Self-sacrifice, bravery in the face of insurmountable odds… it all sounds very Jedi-like."

"If you forget all the war crimes that came before it," said Jaina.

"Exactly," Jacen nodded.

Anakin sighed. "Jacen, you've got me more lost than usual."

"I'm saying that for people like Grant, you have to take the good with the bad. Even if there's a lot of bad, you still have to respect the good he did at the end, even if you don't respect the man who did it."

Anakin let those words roll around his head for a minute before admitting, "Okay, that actually makes some sense."

"I can make sense every now and then," Jacen said with an easy grin.

"Now and then," Anakin admitted. He picked up his cup, poured caf into his mouth, savored, swallowed.

"You look like you enjoyed that," Jaina commented.

"For a while there I didn't think I'd ever have a hot cup again," Anakin admitted.

"Were you scared then?" Jaina asked. Her tone was playful but her eyes were serious. "I mean, after all the crazy stuff you've pulled recently?"

Of course Anakin was scared. Ever since Chewbacca he'd been scared: scared of letting down his friends, scared of dying, scared that this awful war might devour every person and everything he'd ever loved. Scared that he wouldn't live up to his friend's sacrifice.

"If you _weren't_ scared," said Jacen, "Then I'd be worried."

"Well don't be." Anakin forced a smile. "Because at a few points there I was pretty rodding terrified."

Jacen smiled a little, leaned back in his chair, and stretched his limbs. "Good to know my hero brother's still human."

"By the way," said Jaina, "We were thinking about putting together a flight team of younger Jedi to run missions. We've already got Zekk and Lowie signed on."

"Like Kyp's Dozen?" Anakin asked.

Jaina made a face, and Anakin remember that her last encounter with Kyp Durron had been less than amicable.

"More like Saba Sebatyne's Wild Knights," Jacen said, "Only with fewer tails."

"You mean we'll listen to Uncle Luke instead of doing crazy reckless stuff," Anakin smiled.

"Exactly."

"That sounds like a good idea. I'm sure Tahiri would be up for it too."

"I'm sure she would," Jaina said with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Anakin looked away before he could blush, then added "Eryl Besa's a good pilot. I'll try and pull her in too."

"Sounds great," Jaina said. "Hey Jacen, think you can get Tenel Ka to sign up?"

"Ah, Jaina, you know she isn't the most, well, nimble with those flight controls. One hand and all."

"She doesn't have to fly an X-wing. We can look at something else, a blastboat maybe. I'm sure she'd sign on if _you_ ask her."

Now it was Jacen's turn to look away. It made Anakin feel a little better.

Jaina was clearly bemused, but she didn't press the point further, maybe because she knew one of them would start getting on her case about Zekk. She sat back in her chair and stretched. Anakin took another sip of cap. Jacen reluctantly shifted to face his siblings again.

"I think it'll be good to be working together as a team," Jaina said. "We can watch out for each other better."

"Yeah," Jacen added, "Jaina and I won't have to sit at home and twiddle our thumbs and worry about your latest life-threatening escapade."

"Feeling left out?" Anakin tried to sound teasing.

"A little," Jacen admitted, which was surprising. Ever since Duro, Jacen had been intentionally keeping himself away from the front lines because he apparently thought that it did more harm to fight the Yuuzhan Vong than to hide in his private bubble of abstract contemplation while billions died. Anakin was glad he'd finally changed his mind.

"Jacen's just sick of his little brother hogging all the glory," Jaina smiled.

It wasn't that and they all knew it. Jacen's voice went soft, honest, as he said, "Jaina and I have been a little worried about you, Anakin, that's all. You're not invincible."

"I know that," Anakin said stiffly.

"You've become a symbol of the Jedi Order, Anakin," his sister said. "More than me or Jacen, more than maybe anything except Uncle Luke. Beings all over the galaxy look at what you've done and see hope in you."

Anakin frowned and looked away. He hated that kind of pressure. He was just trying to be the best Jedi he could and live up to the price that had been paid to get him this far: Chewie, Daeshara'cor, Master Ikrit, Yuhlan Sarn, and now, impossible as it might sound, Octavian Grant.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess I should be glad I've got family and friends watching my back."

"I know I'd be lost without you," Jacen said.

His tone made Anakin physically flinch. After all the arguments, all the fights, all the evasions, he hadn't been expecting that raw honesty.

"And I'd be lost without _both_ of you," Jaina said. "So we'll see this war through together, all the way to the end, okay?"

He looked up and met her eyes. He saw need there, and concern, but also courage.

"Of course," Anakin said. "All the way to the end."


End file.
